The room of requirement
by evil minded
Summary: AU / Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year? What illness does the Boy-Who-Lived suffers from? And what dealings does Minerva McGonagall have at Prince Manor? Will Albus Dumebledore be the Master of puppets? Thanks for reading this story ...
1. the room of requirement

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Well - sometimes I really want to have a Snape to cuddle, but regrettable I do not own one, J. K. Rowling however does, I just do borrow him from time to time - to cuddle and to mess around here a bit ...

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing ... and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped ...  
I think, a lot of readers do not really grasp the meaning behind the words in all the stories here written about an abused Harry, they read the words, maybe they feel sorry for poor Harry ... but I guess just a few are really able to know what they mean, those words, what they mean for those children in our world ...  
Yet, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution ...  
So I write this to remind all of you who will read this, that there are children in our world which are enduring just such ... and worse ...  
to remind you of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding ...  
Maybe it will help some of you to handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused ... with understanding and with help ...

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

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break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Chapter one**

**Prologue – the room of requirement**

**Wednesday **

It had been quite easy this night.

Not stealing a slice of bread, that never was easy as aunt Petunia always seemed to know what exactly she had stocked in her kitchen. Sometimes he thought she counted every single slice of bread that was there and this night he had not been able to sneak one out. Well, it was not a surprise at all. At least he never was. What was the exact reason _why _his stomach ached with hunger. Well, that wasn't anything new to him either. He was used to it. Aunt Petunia never gave him anything to eat unless it was Monday or Tuesday. Sometimes at least. If she did not forget.

Nor had it been easy to escape uncle Vernon's beating this evening. And this too – he actually had not managed. Well, this too – as always. Yet, this too was nothing new to him either, he never managed. Uncle Vernon always found a reason to beat him, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. And this evening it had been a really bad beating, he mused while he pressed an old shirt at one of the worst cuts on his temple where his head had met the kitchen table when he had fallen. It – at least – was a cut he could reach to. Not so the fresh cuts and welts on his back where uncle Vernon had been beating him with the cane until he had been tired and had switched to just kicking at him.

Nothing new thus far then either.

But what had been easy, well, was escaping before he had lost consciousness so he could have a bit of peace now in his room. Thus, he could count himself lucky this evening and after he could be sure that his uncle would not come back to continue the beating, he let out a breath of relief. He had made it through another day and he was still alive.

And as it was Wednesday and thus not weekend, he could be sure that his uncle would not enter his room sometime during the night to demand more from him than just to endure a beating. Aunt Petunia was at home during the week. She only left on weekends to visit her sister in law.

Harry was sure she hated those visits. But as aunt Marge was as demanding as uncle Vernon was, and aunt Petunia did not wish to get into trouble with her, she visited her every weekend. Well, what meant pure hell for Harry as his uncle visited _him_ during the night in his room then.

Shaking his head in frustration he got up from the mattress he was sitting on and went to the table that stood in one corner of the otherwise small and bare room. He better did not think of that right now. It was not weekend now, it was Wednesday and he had a few nights of peace before Saturday night.

He crept under the table and lifted the invisibility cloak.

A small smile escaped his normally so stoic face as he opened the laptop and pressed the start button.

_'Thank you, Hermione.'_ He thought. _'For this little bit of peace and contact to the wide wizarding world.'_

With trembling fingers he keyed his user name and his password and pressed enter, hoping that his friends were online this evening while he opened his usual site on the web.

Lumos-net ...

It actually was a word he had came up with, for he really could hope for a bit of light at the end of the tunnel that was his holiday each year, but Hermione was the one who was the owner of the site. He, Harry, surely would not be able to manage this added to somehow managing staying alive here at the Dursleys. Not that he had told Hermione anything, no, but there was no need to, he was sure she somehow knew. Some things at least. Well, the website, she had done it since last year and was quite used to it, she did not mind.

_[justharry enters the room of requirement at 9:37 pm]_

_[justharry gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello justharry, nice to see you this evening ... want a coke ? ... |_| ..._

_**Hermy**__: Hi justharry, how're you?_

_**justharry**__: hi Hermy, *hugs* ... :-) … I'm fine, thanks, and you ?_

_**justharry**__: hi gryffidean *wave* ... :-) … you're ok ?_

_**Hermy**__: fine too. Anything new? Did the Dursleys give you a hard time today?_

Harry wanted to write *laugh* for of course they did, but he didn't. Instead of this he checked the users list to greet the rest of the present students. Hermione was there, Dean, Colin and Dennis, and Justin.

_**justharry**__: hi ColCreev and DenCreev, *wave* … how are the both of you ? _

_**justharry**__: hi hufflejustin *wave* … you're ok ?_

_**gryffidean**__: of course, justharry. You?_

_**justharry**__: oh, and hi founders … *patthebot'sshoulder*_

_**ColCreev**__: hi justharry … fine, thanks_

_**DenCreev**__: hi justharry … same answer than ColCreev … you?_

_**justharry**__: has anyone else been already here ?_

_**Hermy**__: no, justharry … we are the first … _

_**gryffidean**__: hey, has anyone done Snape's essay yet? i am at a pure loss with this_

_**justharry**__: not yet, gryffidean … ask Hermy, I am sure she already has …_

_**Hermy**__: of course I'm done with it … but I won't help any of you before you did not at least try it by yourself_

_**gryffidean**__: oh, fine, thanks Hermy … you are so kind …_

_**justharry**__: stop arguing, Hermy and gryffidean and take a !coke instead … ^.~_

_**founders**__: here, take a coke, directly from the fridge … |_| … nice and cool ..._

_**justharry**__: !thanks founders_

_**founders**__: you're welcome, justharry … anytime again …_

_**Hermy**__: thanks justharry, :-)_

_**gryffidean**__: thanks justharry, and sorry …_

_[Finnigan01 enters the room of requirement at 9:51 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Finnigan01, nice to see you this evening__ … _

_**justharry**__: hi Finnigan01 … *wave*_

_**Hermy**__: hi Finnigan01_

_**Finnigan01**__: hi everyone … have not much time … dad gave me a lot of trouble today because of yesterday :-(_

_**ColCreev**__: why, Finnigan01, what was yesterday? Hi by the way_

_**Finnigan01**__: well, I was online till one in the morning and dad found out_

_**DenCreev**__: oh oh Finnigan01 …_

_**Finnigan01**__: well, I just managed to talk my mum into allowing me a few minutes because slythadrian forgot the password to the room … though I told him and he promised he would come later I told mum that I had to get online to ask for the password. *lol* I am just glad that she does not know anything about computers, otherwise she would have known that I would not be able to come into the room without the password either._

_**justharry**__: ok, Finnigan01, don't worry … if not today, then maybe tomorrow …_

_**Hermy**__: you really should not be on this late, Finnigan01, I mean, you did not even begin your homework_

_**Finnigan01**__: oh, come on, Hermy … _

_**gryffidean**__: Hermy! We have summer, and we have plenty of time left!_

_**hufflejustin**__ glares daggers at Hermy …_

_**Finnigan01**__: however, sorry guys, but I have to leave unless I want my dad being really mad at me. I guess he wouldn't allow me to use the computer anytime soon again then. So I better leave now … bye all …_

_**justharry**__: bye Finnigan01 ... 'till tomorrow evening_

_**Hermy**__: bye Finnigan01, have a nice evening_

_**gryffidean**__: bye Finnigan01 … sleep well_

_**DenCreev**__: night Finnigan01_

_**ColCreev**__: good night Finnigan01_

_**hufflejustin**__: bye Finnigan01, see you tomorrow_

_[Finnigan01 leaves the room of requirement at 10:07 pm]_

_[Hermy leaves the room of requirement at 10:07 pm]_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**gryffidean**__: What's with Hermy?_

_**justharry**__: guess she lost connection_

_**hufflejustin**__: flying hour …_

_**DenCreev**__: *lol*_

_**justharry**__: just come to Lumos-net airlines – your flight will be assured … _

_**gryffidean**__: *lol*_

_[Hermy enters the room of requirement at 10:09 pm]_

_[Hermy gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Hermy, nice to see you this evening. Want to read a good book?_

_**justharry**__: welcome back, Hermy_

_**DenCreev**__: re Hermy_

_**ColCreev**__: re Hermy_

_**gryffidean**__: hi back, Hermy_

_**Hermy**__: thanks to you … damn connection …_

_**DenCreev**__: hey, have I already told you, that mum made it? She got the job she made an application for_

_**Hermy**__: hey, congratulations to her, DenCreev_

_**gryffidean**__: yeah, congrats to her, DenCreev_

_**Hermy**__: when will she begin to work in the hospital, DenCreev?_

_**DenCreev**__: first of September … late shift … after my parents brought us to Kings Cross … _

_**Hermy**__ smiles_

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 10:14 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, head of Slytherin house and former Death Eater, now spy to Dumbledore and the order of the phoenix, entered his private library at his manor and he visibly relaxed.

He had arrived earlier this day, but he had not had the time until now to sit here in this room.

At first he had made sure that the manor was fit to live in, what meant a lot of cleaning spells against the amount of dust here and there and – well, nearly everywhere, while his house elf Zilly had been cleaning out the kitchen and the bathroom, and then he had had to ensure that there was enough to eat so he would not have to go shopping during the next weeks. Ifthere was anything he really hated, then it was shopping.

After this he had taken a bath and then – well, Zilly had served dinner. But now, finally, he could enter his library, sit in the large armchair and watch the dancing of the flames in the fireplace, smell the books, the paper and the leather from the book covers, the wood from the shelves and he could allow himself to listen to the soft crackling of the flames, taking in the sight of all the shelves filled with old books and parchment scrolls.

He leaned forwards and took the tomb from the small table in front of the armchair and ran his fingers over the dark brown cover. 'Morgan le Fay and the secrets of Avalon'. A tomb he once …

No, he would not think of Lily now. Not now, not today. Well, ok, not now. Tonight would be another matter altogether, but at least not now, and with a resolved expression on his face he placed the book back at the table and stood, turning towards one of the shelves near the door, an evil grin on his face.

Yes, it was the summer holidays. And he knew what some of the students were up to.

Since more than three years now he owned the computer and he had found more than one of the students in the web. Students with one or both muggle-parents. He meanwhile knew of eight students there. Two of them had left Hogwarts just a week before, five would leave next year and one the year after. Four of them were Slytherins and they knew about him having a computer too. In fact, he quite often communicated with them this way during the holidays, writing electronic mails.

Well, next year this would be over. At least if his students would stop communicating with him this way after their graduation. What he was sure of. Who would by free will continue communicating with his old and snarky Potions Professor after leaving school?

Snorting he pressed the start button and waited until the computer required his user name and his password, typed both and opened his mailbox.

Well, he had a mail from Darren McKinsky three days old.

Opening it he shook his head. McKinsky was one of them who wrote to him during the holidays every week at Monday evening nine o'clock. Sharp. He could have set his alarm at this.

Arent, Cracksly and Elson, they wrote when they had news, or if they were bored, whenever they wanted. But McKinsky was … well, he was McKinsky …

Sighing he read the message, frowning the more he read.

_'Dear Professor Snape,_

_I hope you arrived well at Snape Manor and settled in without any problems._

_Here, there are no news, everything is as it was last year. Mother is still at St. Mungos and father still is drinking. But only in the nights, what I am glad for._

_A few friends from the neighborhood did open a clubhouse during the last term and they invited me. I will take the offer at Saturday and have a look at what the clubhouse is about. It is in the parish hall, so I guess it cannot be that bad. At least not with alcohol and drugs or such stuff. _

_But I have something for you, try the following link:_

_Lumos-net_

_There you will find a room called "the room of requirement"._

_The password to the site itself is "expecto patronum"._

_And the password to the room is "protegere spatium"._

_And from within the room you will have access to the profiles of the users who are in the room at that time. You only have to click at the name and then the button "profile"._

_Have fun with it, and as I know you, you will have it … but be careful, they can kick persons out of the room if they so wish. I guess you better do not tell them the fact that you are a teacher._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Darren_

Well … that indeed was interesting.

For a moment Snape debated with himself if he really should search out this room, he had his freedom for a few weeks after all without the unnerving presence of the students. But then, why not? He could always leave.

So he visited and after finding the room and giving the right password, he entered.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 10:14 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening_

_**justharry**__: hi Darkmaster, nice to see a new face …_

_**Hermy**__: hello Darkmaster, I never before saw you here_

_**gryffidean**__: hi Darkmaster_

_**ColCreev**__: hi Darkmaster_

_**DelCreev**__: hello Darkmaster_

_**hufflejustin**__: good evening, Darkmaster_

Snape was surprised for a moment at the amount of greetings. He had tried such a chat room once, after Elson had invited him into one, but there the users had not been greeting him at all, besides of Elson himself. And now every present user was greeting him personally … that was … well, strange. Suddenly it hit him that maybe he should write back, something he had not been thinking of when he had entered the room. But well, he was here now, so he could play this game just as well. For now at least.

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening everyone._

_**Darkmaster**__: And yes, obviously - I am a new face here, Justharry._

_**justharry**__: well, then welcome to the room of requirement, Darkmaster … :-)_

_**Hermy**__: if you need help with anything here, or if you do have problems with anything, just address justharry or myself and we will help. _

_**hufflejustin**__: Which house are you from, Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Slytherin, Hufflejustin. And I do not have to ask from which house you are._

_**gryffidean**__: figures …_

_**justharry**__: behave, gryffidean! Please!_

_**gryffidean**__: just said figures … _

_**justharry**__: and I just know you, gryffidean, let it be, please_

_**Hermy**__: um, well, how did you learn of this room, Darkmaster? As we have to be careful so muggles do not stumble over this site, it is not a quite common chat room and we do not even use a dot but a hyphen so it is a bit more safe_

_**Darkmaster**__: From another Slytherin student, Hermy. I guess you do not have a lot of them here. _

_**ColCreev**__: not really_

_**DenCreev**__: just two, besides of you now_

_**Hermy**__: we do not have more Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws either. Maybe we will get more from other houses than just Gryffindor with time. _

_**gryffidean**__: you have no profile yet, Darkmaster … i just went and had a look, your profile is empty …_

_**Darkmaster**__: I just entered here, Gryffidean. Without really having the time to create a profile yet._

_**Hermy**__: it is not that important, Darkmaster. you can take your time with that. Just get a feeling for being here._

_**Darkmaster**__: I will do just this, Hermy, thank you._

_**Hermy**__: and would you finally mind writing not 'i' but 'I' … I mean, it's simple, gryffidean, you just have to use 'shift' to do so_

Snape watched the conversation for a while, allowing his thoughts to run around the users of this chat room.

ColCreev surely was Collin Creevey, and DenCreev Dennis Creevey, that much was not hard to find out. Gryffindors.

Founders, well, he knew who the four founders of Hogwarts were, but surely no one would use those as a nickname for a chat room, thus he had no idea who the founders was, not even which house he or she attended as the term founders would stand for all four houses.

Gryffidean was a Gryffindor, and thus surely Dean Thomas, a fourth year now.

Hermy – well, he could not be sure. But as he guessed that justharry could be no other one than Harry Potter, he guessed that Hermy was Hermione Granger. He could be wrong though, but somehow he was sure that he was not.

And last bat not least, hufflejustin surely was Justin Finch-Fletchley.

What somehow disturbed him, was Potter. Using the nickname _'justharry'_? And written with a small initial? What was exactly the reason why he had not been sure in the first place. But then – there was only one Harry at Hogwarts, and that was – Harry Potter. And together with Hermione Granger as Hermy, that figured.

But yet again. A nickname like 'justharry'? _Just Harry_? That somehow did not sit well with him. Not that he cared, he just did not understand.

And what he did not understand either, was the fact that they were friendly towards him, a stranger, a _Slytherin _no less. They did not know anything about him besides the fact that he was from Slytherin.

But honestly, there he followed the advise from Darren and visited this room, just to find out that none other than Bloody Potter was there too.

_**DenCreev**__: I'm done with today. Night Darkmaster, gryffidean, Hermy, hufflejustin and justharry_

_**ColCreev**__: the same goes for me, night Darkmaster, gryffidean, Hermy, hufflejustin and justharry, till tomorrow_

_**justharry**__: night ColCreev and DenCreev, sleep well_

_**Hermy**__: good night the both of you, sleep well and have nice dreams_

_**gryffidean**__: sleep well ColCreev and DenCreev, till tomorrow_

_**hufflejustin**__: night you two … _

_**Darkmaster**__: good night ColCreev and DenCreev_

_[ColCreev leaves the room of requirement at 10:47 pm]_

_[DenCreev leaves the room of requirement at 10:47 pm]_

_**gryffidean**__: i'll be back in a moment, need something to drink_

_**Hermy**__: bring me something too, gryffidean_

_**gryffidean**__: ok, what do you want, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: a coke_

_**gryffidean**__: !coke_

_**founders**__: here, take a coke, directly from the fridge … |_| … nice and cool …_

_**gryffidean**__: *lol*_

_**Hermy**__: *rofl* … thanks_

_**hufflejustin**__: that's it …_

_**gryffidean**__: that's what, hufflejustin?_

_**hufflejustin**__: I just finished the transfigurations essay for McGonagall_

_**gryffidean**__: uargh … you are as crazy as Hermy, hufflejustin_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are just one week into the holidays and already make your homework, Hufflejustin? That sounds more like a Ravenclaw than like a Hufflepuff._

_**hufflejustin**__: of course, Darkmaster … it has to be done, hasn't it? So better get over with it. I am sure Hermy has completed her homework already_

_**Hermy**__: of course I have. So I have plenty of time to look over the books for the new school year as soon as the list arrives_

_**gryffidean**__: you are crazy Hermy … :-p ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, I have a question._

_**Hermy**__: then just ask, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why are you all using the full written nickname? Wouldn't Justin be much more easy to write than Hufflejustin and Dean much more easy than Gryffidean? And so on? This is a bit long-winded with time._

_**Hermy**__: well, not really, Darkmaster. We use the full nick, because just then the addressed person sees the sentence in a red color instead of just black, so the addressed person knows even without paying full attention to the conversation that someone had been asking a question directed to him or her_

_**justharry**__: and you do not have to write the full name either, Darkmaster … just write the first two letters and then press the tab key and the name will be completed by itself. You do not even have to regard capitalization_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am quite impressed. That simplifies things._

_**Hermy**__: It does_

_[slythadrian enters the room of requirement at 10:59]_

_**founders**__: hello slythadrian, nice to see you this evening._

_**justharry**__: hi slythadrian … :-) …_

_**Hermy:**__ hello slythadrian, nice to see you today. You missed yesterday, it was quite funny_

_**slythadrian**__: hi Darkmaster, gryffidean, Hermy, hufflejustin and justharry … yes, I did not have time yesterday evening. My father was at home._

_**Hermy**__: *liftsaneyebrow* I hope you did not get into trouble, slythadrian?_

_**hufflejustin**__: hi slythadrian_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: no, Hermy, not really. But thanks_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**gryffidean**__: hi slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: what, justharry?_

_**Justharry**__: nothing, slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: o.O_

_**slythadrian**__: a new face … Darkmaster … what house from?_

_**Darkmaster**__: The same as yours, slythadrian._

_**hufflejustin**__: however, I'm going … till tomorrow, Darkmaster, gryffidean, Hermy, justharry and slythadrian_

_**Hermy**__: night hufflejustin, see you tomorrow_

_**gryffidean**__: night hufflejustin_

_**slythadrian**__: good night, hufflejustin_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good night, hufflejustin._

_**slythadrian**__: hey, know the newest? Pansy Parkinson has a computer now too. I just wanted to ask you if I may invite her to this room_

_**Hermy**__: of course, slythadrian, you can invite whomever you want, as long as it is a witch or a wizard. It would do no good if the muggles knew about the wizarding world_

_**slythadrian**__: yes, I just thought I ask, I mean, we are Slytherins after all. And this is your room_

_**justharry:** you do not have to ask, slythadrian, and you should know that. here we are all the same.  
_

_**Hermy**__: well, this is our room, yes, but that does not mean that only we are allowed in here. Where would be the fun? Do you think justharry and me do want to sit in here alone? That was the reason why we created this room after all. In here we can forget our houses for a bit and be friends._

_**slythadrian**__: yes, you said so when I first visited … nevertheless ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: That may be a noble reason, Hermy, but not everyone would share your way of thinking._

_**Hermy**__: well, if they think otherwise, then they are quite at the wrong place in here and should open their own room, Darkmaster. We do not care from which house the other users in here come. As long as no bad blood is spilled. This room should be a place of peace and rest for every member. And there are quite some who are in need of such a place during the summer_

_**Darkmaster**__: What do you mean by this, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: it is not my place to tell anything, Darkmaster. Maybe someday you will learn it from those members themselves_

_**Hermy**__: Finnigan01 told us you forgot the password. He used it as an excuse to come by for at least a few minutes_

_**slythadrian**__: yes. I made a note and placed it under my keyboard, but somehow it got lost. Well, and Finnigan01 got in quite a trouble with his father after he found out he was on till one in the morning_

_**Hermy**__: I told him to go to bed earlier. But he wanted to finish some games he was playing_

_**slythadrian**__: yes, I know. I never knew what he found so fascinating with those games_

_**gryffidean**__: well, they are games … and games ARE funny_

_**Hermy**__: justharry?_

_**justharry**__: hm ?_

_**Hermy**__: you are a bit quiet this evening, justharry. Are you ok?_

_**justharry**__: yeah, fine, just tired, Hermy_

_**Hermy**__: you did not answer my question earlier, justharry_

_**justharry**__: ^.~ … just forget it, Hermy, ok ? I'm fine …_

_**slythadrian**__: .oO( of course, and I am a pink rabbit )_

_**gryffidean**__: *lol*_

_[justharry leaves the room of requirement at 11:19]_

_**Hermy**__: damn!_

_**slythadrian**__: O.o_

_**gryffidean**__: ups?_

_**gryffidean**__: surely the connection_

_**slythadrian**__: I highly doubt that_

_**gryffidean**__: but Harry never leaves without a word_

_**Hermy**__: I should have left him alone, that's all_

_**gryffidean**__: well, he'll be back tomorrow evening_

_**slythadrian**__: ^.~_

_**Hermy**__: I hope_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Shortly after that slythadrian had left the channel and not long after Snape had made his farewell too and had left the both remaining Gryffindors alone. He had learned quite enough this evening.

At first, there was Darren McKinsky. A student in his house who had sent him a mail with the information on the room of requirement. He had been reading between the lines when he had read the mail.

Darren had mentioned that his mother still was in St. Mungos and that his father was still drinking, but luckily only during the nights.

What Darren had not mentioned was that his father would beat him then.

He had seen marks of beatings last year. Not enough that he would have had enough evidence to get the boy out of there. Not enough that Darren would not find excuses. But he _had _seen them. And he had seen enough beaten children in his carrier as a teacher and as head of Slytherin, that he knew those kind of marks well enough.

So he now knew that Darren had a rough summer ahead of him and he considered to check on the boy during the next weeks. It was after all a common thing that he visited the families of his students from time to time during the holidays. It would not look odd if he made a visit at the McKinskys during the holidays now.

Well, and then he had learned that there was a chat room named the 'room of requirement'. Run by Granger and Potter. Gryffindors. Yet – they both seemed to be comfortable with having students of other houses there as well, even the Slytherins. And Potter having a nickname he never would have dreamed of. _Just Harry_.

Then he had learned that Adrian Pucey, one of his Slytherin students, was a member of this room too, and that he was well integrated into the group as it seemed.

Yet – there were some things … Adrian's comment for example, that he did not manage to visit the room because of his father being at home ... then Granger's comment _'I hope you did not get into trouble'_ … the raised eyebrow of Potter by Adrian's denial … well, he would have to make another visit soon, and he would keep an eye on Adrian.

Then – Potter.

Granger had asked why he was quiet this evening. Potter had answered he was fine and Granger then had demanded an answer to a question asked earlier to which Potter had repeated that he was fine. And this time it had been Adrian who had reacted in a manner not believing Potter. After then Potter had left without a word, unlikely him according to Mr. Thomas.

Well, Adrian and Granger had known something, as before Potter had known something about Adrian.

Yes, he really would visit again, and he really would have an eye at them, first of all at Adrian.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_To learn how to have a private dialogue._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	2. a private dialogue

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Well - sometimes I really want to have a Snape to cuddle, but regrettable I do not own one, J. K. Rowling however does, I just do borrow him from time to time - to cuddle and to mess around here a bit ...

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

I do know that there doesn't happen much during the first few chapters - but well, our Potions Master has to be introduced into the world of chats ... and I just have to give him a few things to think about. He is new at least and honestly - would you give information away to a new chatter on your first few conversations?

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

**

* * *

**

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_After then Potter had left without a word, unlikely him according to Mr. Thomas._

_Well, Adrian and Granger had known something, as before Potter had known something about Adrian._

_Yes, he really would visit again, and he really would have an eye at them, first of all at Adrian._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter two**

**A private dialogue**

**Thursday**

Snape had just had dinner, and now he entered his library.

He would find out more today about the 'room of requirement'. It was half past eight and he was curious as to who would be present today.

Well, yes – he had thought about it throughout the day, about the room and about communicating with annoying and idiotic students over his well earned summer holidays and he nearly had dismissed the idea a few times. Why should he bother writing with some of the students – Gryffindors no less, not to mention Potter – during his well-deserved break? That was just stupid. He really could use his time more effectively.

He had to stock the infirmary for the upcoming school year, he had to brew the antidotes for the potions he would have his students brewing after the summer break, he had lesson plans to make and not to mention he had to finish the article about his new potion he had been asked to publish in the next edition of 'Potions Monthly'. He didn't mind the money he would get for this, but he knew how much young witches and wizards would gain out of this one, how many lives could be saved with this potion - maybe. But at least they had a chance with this potion in the first place, and thus - it was important.

But then – he had to admit, he _was_ curious. Potter had been civil, Granger had not been her typical know-it-all, and Weasly hadn't been present. Well - Weasley surely didn't even know what a computer was in the first place. However, and then, there was Adrian, a student from his own house, and he wanted to know what he was doing in a Gryffindor chat room.

He could write on his article later, or tomorrow. So he started his computer and opened the site he needed, 'lumos-net'.

At first he clicked at his profile and really, it was empty. He would think about something - and how this worked - later. Just now he wanted to know who was present in the 'room of requirement'.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 8:31 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening._

_**Hermy**__: hello Darkmaster, how are you today?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, founders. Nice to see you too, but your greeting is always the same. Not really eloquent._

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, Hermy. I am fine, thank you. The same hopefully goes for you._

_**Hermy**__: yes, thanks. But the founders are no person. He is the bot._

_**Darkmaster**__: Who or what is a bot?_

_**Hermy**__: it comes from the term roBOTer, Darkmaster. It is only a program that is running in the background. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I see. And what exactly is the purpose of a – bot?_

_**Hermy**__: well, the bot keeps the room open when none of us is here, it gives out operator rights and it recognizes simple orders_

_**Darkmaster**__: Like?_

_**Hermy**__: well, if you place an exclamation mark before a word like !coke , then the bot will react with the sentence he is ordered to give _

_**founders**__: here, take a coke, directly from the fridge … |_| … nice and cool …_

_**Hermy**__: !thank you, founders_

_**founders**__: you're welcome, Hermy … anytime again …_

_**Hermy**__: you see, the bot even recognizes the users and adds the names into his sentences - sometimes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Ingenious. So it is a dead but interactive user._

_**Hermy**__: something like that, yes_

_[gryffidean enters the room of requirement at 8:41 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello gryffidean, nice to see you this evening._

_**Hermy**__: hi gryffidean_

_**gryffidean**__: hi Hermy … Justin is coming too in a moment_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, gryffidean_

_**gryffidean**__: hello Darkmaster_

_**Hermy**__: how are you today, gryffidean?_

_**gryffidean**__: fine, thanks, you?_

_**Hermy**__: me too, thanks_

_[Finnigan01 enters the room of requirement at 8:47 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Finnigan01, nice to see you this evening._

_**Hermy**__: hi Finnigan01_

_**gryffidean**__: hi Finnigan01_

_**Finnigan01**__: hi Darkmaster, gryffidean and Hermy_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, Finnigan01_

_**Finnigan01**__: a new face … Darkmaster … which house from?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Slytherin, Finnigan01. You are from Gryffindor, I presume?_

_**Finnigan01**__: jap_

_**Finnigan01**__: hey, Hermy, where's Harry? I wanted to ask him how I can create the buttons with 'the wand'_

_**Hermy**__: Harry is not here yet. I don't know when he will come. _

_**Hermy**__: But well, you click onto 'options', then 'buttons' and then you just have to write the sentences you want to use for them._

_**gryffidean**__: oh, thanks Hermy … i too didn't know this one _

_**Finnigan01**__: ahhh … thank you, Hermy … I'll try it at once … wait a minute …_

_**Hermy**__: no problem you two_

_**Darkmaster**__: I take it, that you are quite comfortable with using the computer, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: oh, only a bit, Darkmaster. I guess Harry and me complement one another_

_[plainliquid enters the room of requirement at 9:01 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello plainliquid, nice to see you this evening._

_**plainliquid**__: hi Darkmaster … new here, I see … that's good, new members, I mean_

_**Hermy**__: hello plainliquid, you're ok?_

_**plainliquid**__: hi Finnigan01, didn't see you for a time_

_**plainliquid**__: hi gryffidean, you got your info about 'the wand'?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, plainliquid. Yes, it is quite a nice room here_

_**Finnigan01**__: hello plainliquid, i was here yesterday … you weren't_

_**plainliquid**__: hi Hermy, had a nice day?_

_**gryffidean**__: hi plainliquid, Hermy told me how to create the buttons, yes_

_**plainliquid**__: hey, did anyone Snape's essay yet?_

_**gryffidean**__: Hermy did, but she won't help you, i already asked her yesterday_

Lifting his eyebrow Snape laughed. He should have known that the subject of teachers, maybe him especially, would come up some times during the conversation. Well, he would see what direction this would go to. He was quite amused.

_**plainliquid**__: hey, Darkmaster … which year are you in?_

Well, that was not a question he had considered when he had entered the 'room of requirement'. Well, he would not lower himself to a fourth year as were the others. Maybe a seventh year. Yes, that would do.

_**Hermy**__: yes, I already did it, but I won't help you until you tried it by yourself_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am in seventh year, plainliquid._

_**plainliquid**__: damn, then you do not have the same essay as we have, Darkmaster_

_**gryffidean**__: you are a seventh year, Darkmaster ? cool_

_**Hermy**__: I thought as much. Your way of writing is not as lazy as that of gryffidean for example who is not able to write 'I' but always writes 'i' …_

_**gryffidean**__ is growling at Hermy ..._

_[justharry enters the room of requirement at 9:21 pm]_

_[justharry gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello justharry, nice to see you this evening … want a coke ? … |_| …_

_**Hermy**__: hey justharry, you are early today, you're ok?_

_**justharry**__: hi Hermy, course. __You?_

_**justharry**__: hello plainliquid_

_**justharry**__: welcome back, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, justharry. Thank you._

_**justharry**__: hi Finnigan01 and gryffidean_

_**plainliquid**__: hi justharry, you really are early_

_**justharry**__: oh, and hi founders … *patthebot'sshoulder*_

_**Finnigan01**__: hi justharry_

_**gryffidean**__: hi justharry_

_**justharry**__: no problem, Darkmaster_

_**Hermy**__: may I have a dia for a moment, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: course, Hermy _

_[justharry is away for a moment]_

_[Hermy is away for a moment]_

_**Darkmaster**__: a dia? What is a dia? If I may ask._

_**plainliquid**__: a dia is a private dialogue, Darkmaster. You click onto the name of one of the users, and then you chose 'private dialogue'. _

_**Finnigan01**__: it's a private dialogue in an extra window. Only you and the other user can read it if you write in this window, Darkmaster._

_**Darkmaster**__: I see. Thank you, plainliquid and Finnigan01_

_**plainliquid**__: no prob, Darkmaster_

_**Finnigan01**__: so, whom of you had a date this summer thus far?_

_**plainliquid**__: hmpf … boys!_

_**Finnigan01**__: what?_

_**gryffidean**__: not yet … you are just too far away, Finnigan01 … *lol*_

_**Finnigan01**__: how funny, gryffidean …_

_**gryffidean**__: what?_

_**Finnigan01**__: you're stupid, gryffidean, I mean it … I have one tomorrow, and … I don't know …_

_[Finnigan01 is warned by the founders]_

_**founders**__: do not insult the other users, Finnigan01, or leave the room!_

_**Finnigan01**__: oh, come on … ok … stu-pid founders …_

_**Finnigan01**__: but really … I have one tomorrow, and I'm, uhm, dunno, I feel strange_

_**plainliquid**__: I guess you will be fine, at least if you behave once in your life, Finnigan01_

_**Finnigan01**__: oh, thanks, plainliquid_

_**plainliquid**__: you're quite welcome, Finnigan01 *lol*_

_**gryffidean**__: what's your problem, Finnigan01? It's just a date_

_[Hermy is back in the room of requirement]_

_**Hermy**__: hi back there_

_[justharry is back in the room of requirement]_

_**justharry**__: hello back, everyone_

_**plainliquid**__: re Hermy and justharry_

_**Finnigan01**__: re Hermy and justharry_

_**gryffidean**__: re you both_

_**Darkmaster**__: what is re?_

_**Hermy**__: re is the shortcut for retour, means welcome back _

_**Darkmaster**__: I see. In this case, welcome back, you two_

_**justharry**__: thanks to all_

_[itsi enters the room of requirement at 9:21 pm]_

_**justharry**__: hi itsi - yet again ... ^.~_

_[itsi leaves the room of requirement at 9:22]_

_**gryffidean**__: why do you still greet him, or her, whoever it is, justharry? he or she leaves anyway a moment after entering_

_**justharry**__: because I show manners. you just greet when someone enters a room, don't you?_

_**gryffidean**__: he or she doesn't do so_

_**justharry**__: what doesn't mean I have to lower myself to the same level_

Well, maybe it was time to get a bit more information than the sex life of Finnigan and the boldness of Thomas.

Plainliquid, whoever that was, yet – he guessed a girl from the beforehand mentioned 'boys!' - was as civil as Miss Granger was. Even Potter seemed to be civil. Well, if he wrote anything at all.

The room seemed to belong to Granger and to Potter, but Potter – even if present - didn't write much. He was greeting the users, but he did not much more. Yet – it seemed not always like this. Granger had mentioned so yesterday, when she had announced to Potter that he was very quiet.

Yes – maybe it was time to use this private dialogue.

He clicked onto the name 'justharry' and he got a list

'profile'

'private dialogue'

'write mail'

'ignore user'

'report user'

'add user to friends list'

He chose 'private dialogue' and a new, a smaller window opened.

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Hello._

_**justharry**__: hi there, Darkmaster. Can I help you?_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, I just was curious about this function._

_**justharry**__: oh, that's quite alright_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are Potter, right?_

_**justharry**__: there isn't another Harry in Hogwarts, so yes, I guess I am_

_**Darkmaster**__: It wasn't meant as an insult._

_**justharry**__: I do not take it as one_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright, you just sounded like you did and I wanted to make sure it was none._

_**justharry**__: don't worry_

_**Darkmaster**__: You left rather quickly yesterday. Was something wrong?_

_**justharry**__: don't worry about that either. Was just tired_

_**justharry**__: and who are you, if I may ask? Your nickname isn't one you could learn from who you were_

_**Darkmaster**__: That's just the trick, isn't it?_

_**justharry**__: *lol* right. So, you're in Slytherin. Which year?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Seventh._

_**Darkmaster**__: You are living with your relatives, I heard? With your aunt and uncle._

_**justharry**__: yeah. You?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do live by my own._

_**justharry**__: cool, I wished I could just do that too_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why would you wish that?_

_**justharry**__: several reasons, never mind_

_**justharry**__: is it your first time you use a chat room?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to admit, yes. I have visited one a year ago, but it wasn't that impressing so I left shortly after entering._

_**justharry**__: thanks for the compliment in that case_

_**Darkmaster**__: You're welcome. Why is it that you are much more eloquent here than in the 'room of requirement'?_

_**justharry**__: *shrugshoulders* sometimes it is easier to concentrate onto a single person than talking to the entire lot_

_**Darkmaster**__: As when you are tired?_

_**justharry**__: jap. But as Hermy is there, I do not have to watch that closely what's going on in there_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your bot as well is watching. He too is warning users, I saw earlier._

_**justharry**__: he just warns them when a word is used with which he is fed and ordered to warn upon_

_**justharry**__: are you muggleborn? Or halfblood?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Halfblood. My father was a muggle._

_**Darkmaster**__: What is your favorite color?_

_**justharry**__: you may laugh, but besides of black, it is green_

_**Darkmaster**__: Green? That indeed is a surprise._

_**justharry**__: yours?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Black and green._

_**justharry**__: .oO( … I should have known … )_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why did you come up with this chat? If you do not mind me asking._

_**justharry**__: it wasn't me. In fact it was Hermy. But I am glad for it. This way at least I am able to have some contact to the outward world during the holidays  
_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why wouldn't you have contact to the outward world during the holidays without this chat? _

_**justharry**__: *laugh* … never mind_

_**Darkmaster**__: Hey, I have answered all of your questions truthfully up to now. _

_**justharry**__: no, you have not. You did not say who you are. And besides, who would care anyway? It's not that important, so just forget it_

_**Darkmaster**__: You could find out who I am – by asking questions. But I only will answer truthfully, if you do as well._

_**justharry**__: ^.~ _

_**justharry**__: ok_

_**Darkmaster**__: So, why wouldn't you have contact to the outward world during the holidays without this chat?_

_**justharry**__: *snort* ... as if the Dursleys would allow me any contact to anyone. I am not even allowed to the neighboring children_

_**Darkmaster**__: So, what are you doing all summer?_

_**justharry**__: it is not your turn. But as we are at it, what are YOU doing all summer?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright. I am reading a lot, growing plants in the garden, or I do researches for potions_

_**justharry**__: so, potions is your favorite subject I guess_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do hope that wasn't a question. But yes, potions is my favorite subject. So, what are you doing all summer then?_

_**justharry**__: well, that one is easy to answer. Doing chores … and chatting at night if I am not too tired_

_**Darkmaster**__: Doing chores? Just chores?_

_**justharry**__: yes, just chores, what's wrong with that?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Nothing at all. I just wondered what kind of chores would take one all summer long._

_**justharry**__: believe me, there are enough. However, I'm tired and tomorrow morning comes soon enough_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright. So I guess we will continue this tomorrow evening._

_**justharry**__: yeah, if I can make it_

Snape closed the window of the private dialogue and landed back in the 'room of requirement'.

Well, this had been an interesting dialogue. He guessed he had never spoken to Potter this much than he had this evening, and he was not even annoyed by the Gryffindor. He never would have believed this.

Maybe it made a difference if he did not have to see the image of James Potter when he talked with Harry Potter. He frowned at that thought. Was that the only reason for the annoyance he always felt towards Potter? His resemblance to his father? To James Potter? Surely not.

_**justharry**__: don't be offended guys, but I am tired. Good night plainliquid, Darkmaster, Finnigan01, gryffidean and Hermy. Sleep well and have nice dreams_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good night to you too, justharry._

_**Hermy**__: night justharry, sleep well and don't get in trouble tomorrow with the Dursleys_

_**plainliquid**__: sleep well, justharry, till soon_

_**Finnigan01**__: gn8 justharry_

_**gryffidean**__: gn8 justharry_

_[justharry leaves the room of requirement at 11:09]_

_**Darkmaster**__: How is it that Potter is roaming the school at night but is going to bed during the holidays at eleven?_

_**Hermy**__: he has enough work to do during the day, Darkmaster_

_**gryffidean**__: maybe he is sleeping ahead during classes so he can roam the school at night without being tired … *lol*_

_**plainliquid**__: don't be stupid, gryffidean. That's not the case_

_[plainliquid is warned by the founders]_

_**founders**__: do not insult the other users, plainliquid, or leave the room!_

_**plainliquid**__: you really have to change the founders, Hermy. That's quite not fair, I used a normal phrase_

_**Hermy**__: tell this to Harry, plainliquid. HE is responsible for the founders, and if he chose that he will not have it with this word to be used in the 'room of requirement', then it is his decision._

_**Darkmaster:**__ So, you came up with the chat in general, and Potter is responsible for the bot, Hermy?_

_**Hermy:**__ that's correct, Darkmaster. Harry is in charge of the room and for the bot and I for the room and for the page itself_

_**Darkmaster:**__ And why, pray tell, does he emphasize to not using certain words? _

_**Hermy:**__ well, so no one is offended. Where would we go if you could offend others? Then this room would go down the hill. It is important that every one who enters the 'room of requirement' does feel welcomed and – well, safe … kind of … so he at least said_

_**Darkmaster:**__ I see._

_**plainliquid:**__ yes, but with some words he clearly overreacted. I mean, come on, Hermy … stu-pid is a normal word not just used to offend others_

_**Hermy:**__ that might be, plainliquid, but honestly, Harry has a point, for it CAN be used to offend others. And besides, as I already told you, it is Harry's decision, mention it to him. I can't do anything about it, and I would not even do so if I could. Harry does not interfere in my duties either._

_**gryffidean:**__ *lol* … you should listen to yourself, plainliquid and Hermy … you sound really like an old couple …_

_**Hermy:**__ *shakinghead*_

_**Darkmaster:**__ What is the meaning of *lol*? I read it a few times up to now._

_**Hermy:**__ 'lol' comes from 'laughing out loud' … and written in an asterisk, it means something that you are doing at the moment … so *lol* means, that the user is laughing out loud at the moment_

_**gryffidean:**__ then there is *rofl* … means 'rolling on the floor, laughing'_

_**Hermy:**__ correct … and *g* means *grin* … _

_**Darkmaster:**__ I see, so this is an entire language of its own?_

_**Hermy:**__ not really. There are not enough terms to use for really communicating this way_

_**Darkmaster:**__ I meant this rather – rhetorical._

_**gryffidean:**__ ok, and then there are things like :-) means a smiling face … or :-( means a sad face … _

_**Darkmaster: **__^.~ … means one raised eyebrow, I presume? _

_**Hermy:**__ yes, you are quite right. It is Harry's favorite. Yet – I guess slythadrian copied it from him_

_**Darkmaster:**__ And what is O.o?_

_**gryffidean:**__ *lol* … some sort of a funny face. It means many things, at least when slythadrian uses this one_

_**Darkmaster:**__ I see._

_**gryffidean**__: i though like this one: :-o _

_**Hermy:**__ yes, gryffidean … openmouthed … salivating … and incapable of writing 'I' instead of 'i' _

_**Darkmaster:**__ *snort*_

_**gryffidean:**__ hey, that's quite unfair … i'm not allowed to write stupid, but you are allowed to insult me? That's not fair_

_[gryffidean is warned by the founders]_

_**founders**__: do not insult the other users, gryffidean , or leave the room!_

_**Darkmaster:**__ That – was quite intelligent, gryffidean._

_**Hermy **__is shaking her head_

_**gryffidean:**__ that's not fair_

_**Hermy:**__ you should have known that this would happen, gryffidean_

_**Hermy:**__ well, Darkmaster, if you use /me at the beginning of a sentence, then the colon is left out and the sentence is not like speaking but like doing something._

_**Hermy **__uses /me at the beginning of the sentence_

_**Darkmaster**__ thinks this room more and more interesting_

_**Hermy:**__ well, if you are thinking something, then you can use /think, at the beginning of the sentence, then it will be in a thought bubble_

_**Hermy:**__ .oO( … so you can think something without saying it … )_

_**Darkmaster:**__ .oO( Ingenious )_

_**gryffidean:**__ hmpf … i didn't know this one …_

_**Hermy:**__ I always knew that you are incapable of thinking … gryffidean … _

_**gryffidean:**__ you better be glad that Harry is not here – he would behead you for insulting me like this …_

_**Hermy:**__ I'm an op … I am allowed to insult you … *lol*_

_**Finnigan01:**__ *lol*_

_**Darkmaster**__ smirks_

_**Hermy:**__ yes, like this, Darkmaster. I see you are able to express yourself in 'chat-language'_

_**Darkmaster:**__ It is not really an art._

_**Hermy:**__ so say you, Darkmaster. Harry would say otherwise_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Why so?_

_**Hermy:**__ well, once I entered the 'room of requirement' with another nick because I lost my password. And he knew it was me within five sentences. The way you write, the way you express yourself here, what signs you use, what words, or if you use a lot of '…' and other such things shows who is behind the words._

_**plainliquid:**__ that's correct. And Hermy and Harry both for example always know how we are feeling, just by watching the way we write, or something like that. I never would manage that_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Well, you may have a point. In this case, it actually might be an art._

_**Hermy:**__ I don't know. Maybe it just has something to do with watching the users and the way they express themselves_

_**gryffidean:**__ hey … that's too complicated for me, guys … I am here just for fun …_

_**Hermy:**__ what exactly is the reason you are no op_

_**Darkmaster:**__ What is an op?_

_**Hermy:**__ an operator. He is responsible for a room. And for the users. We do not only write here, we look out to our users. We ask them if they alright if we think they are not, we try to help them if they have problems, and we are here if they want to talk. And if they do not behave, we can throw them out._

_**Darkmaster:**__ I am curious. How so?_

_**Hermy: **__I will show you, Darkmaster. May I, plainliquid? Just for a demonstration?_

_**plainliquid: **__of course, go ahead, Hermy_

_**plainliquid: **__.oO( Hermy is quite stu-pid … and :-p … and … well … *lol* )_

_[plainliquid is kicked out of the room of requirement by Hermy at 11:50 pm]_

_[plainliquid enters the room of requirement at 11:51 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello plainliquid, nice to see you this evening._

_**plainliquid:**__ re all … *lol* … you see, Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Quite impressive._

_**Hermy:**__ well, we have to be able to do something if matters go out of hands – or rather before they get out of hands_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, but they are able to come back in after you threw them out and continue with their troublemaking._

_**Hermy**__: yes, they can. But only three times. After that they are banned from the room._

_**Darkmaster:**__ I see. However, I will leave now. Thank you for all the information._

_**Hermy**__: no problem, night Darkmaster, sleep well_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good night, plainliquid, Finnigan01, gryffidean and Hermy._

_**plainliquid**__: night Darkmaster, till soon I hope_

_**gryffidean**__: n8 Darkmaster_

_**Finnigan01**__: n8 Darkmaster_

Closing all the windows Snape leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Well, this evening had been even more interesting than yesterday evening. He had quite noticed a few things. And he had learned a few things either. About this chat room about the bot called founders, and about the private dialogues.

Potter had created a bot that was watching over the room so the users would have to be civil. He had created a bot that was neutral, the founders, it stood for each house, so everyone who came in would be feeling welcomed. No one would have to feel out of the place. That was quite not what he had thought from the Gryffindor. Yet – Potter got a different greeting from the bot than the others. And he got op-rights when he entered. He had not thought of Potter being someone who could be responsible for something. And responsible for something involving a lot of other people no less.

Well, in general the girls seemed to be more civil and eloquent than the boys, what was quite expectable compared to the real world. Except for Potter. He was as civil as the girls were, but not as eloquent. Well, yes, he was. But not in the room itself. There he really was quiet. But in a private dialogue, he was quite eloquent. Because there he had to concentrate onto one person only and not onto the lot as he put it.

Potter seemed to be offended by the mentioning of him being Harry Potter and it seemed he did not easily talk about himself, nor about his relatives. He wished he could live by his own and he did not have contact during the summer but did chores instead and thus went to bed earlier than when being at Hogwarts. And he liked Slytherin colors.

But, why would the Brat-That-Was-Being-Handled-Kingly-By-His-Relatives would not have contact to other children or teenagers during the summer? And why would he even do chores during the summer? That was not like a Potter at all.

Well, maybe his relatives knew that a few chores would not kill him.

But then, Miss Granger seemed to be worried about Potter.

He snorted. Most likely Potter didn't get his dessert each meal.

Well, he would be back tomorrow and try to find out more, he decided while he took a parchment and a quill and then continued on his article for 'Potions Monthly'. His curiosity had set in, as had his spy instincts.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Some fun that can happen in a chat room._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	3. to have some fun

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Well - sometimes I really want to have a Snape to cuddle, but regrettable I do not own one, J. K. Rowling however does, I just do borrow him from time to time - to cuddle and to mess around here a bit ...

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

**

* * *

**

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_Well, maybe his relatives knew that a few chores would not kill him._

_But then, Miss Granger seemed to be worried about Potter._

_Well, he would be back tomorrow._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter three**

**Having some fun**

**Friday**

He did not know why he – yet again – was hurrying towards his library to turn on his computer.

Communicating with the students during his well earned holidays – that was not like him after all. He rather should take a good book, or the new potions journal and read a bit, instead of entering the room of requirement. He even had a few potions to brew for his own potions stocks and for restocking the infirmary, not to mention those he needed for his lessons next year and last but not least he really should continue with his article for the potions journal.

But then – he had promised himself that he would come back to find out more. Even if he did not know about what exactly he wanted to find out more. They weren't up to something. They just had some fun during the holidays, nothing more. And that surely was not a crime.

But, well, he had to admit that it wasn't that bad in the room of requirement at all. They behaved, and they even were civil, he thought while he waited for the computer to start. So why not?

And besides – it was fun to fool them a bit.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 8:49 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening._

_**justharry**__: hello, Darkmaster … :-) … nice to see you back here …_

_**Darkmaster**__: good evening, plainliquid, Finnigan01, Hermy, hufflejustin and justharry _

_**Hermy**__: hi, Darkmaster, you're ok?_

_**Finnigan01**__: well, I still like snow white and the seven dwarves. I love the dwarves_

_**Finnigan01**__: hi Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Thank you, justharry. And yes, Hermy, I am quite well, thanks for your concern_

_**plainliquid**__: evening Darkmaster _

_**plainliquid**__: I love the beauty and the beast_

_**Hermy**__: Walt Disney … that's not quite a classical fairy tale, plainliquid_

_**hufflejustin**__: hi_

_**plainliquid**__: I know, but it's my favorite_

_**Hermy**__: as long as you do not mention Cinderella … I never liked this one …_

_**hufflejustin**__: why not, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: well, a fairy tale for children … and then the mother cuts off her daughter's toes … it always gave me the creeps_

_**justharry**__: well, better loosing a toe than a head, Hermy_

_**Finnigan01**__: turn and peep, turn and peep, there's blood within the shoe, the shoe it is too small for her, the true bride waits for you_

_**justharry**__: hey, you are quite good, Finnigan01, remembering that one …_

_**Finnigan01**__: *lol* no, justharry … I just googled the shit_

_**justharry**__: *rofl*_

_**plainliquid**__: well, I had nightmares after this one_

_**Hermy**__: never mind. I see this discussion is not going quite well for me_

_**hufflejustin**__: - afk_

_**justharry**__: sure … and, Hermy ? as long as your parents does not cook filled Hermiones with beans ..._

_**Hermy**__: *lol*_

_**Darkmaster**__: What is the meaning of - afk?_

_**justharry**__: afk is away from keyboard, Darkmaster_

_**plainliquid**__: the worst with the fairy tales is, they are just contrived *gg*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Thank you, justharry_

_**Hermy**__: not everything, plainliquid … just think at the burning of witches_

_**justharry**__: you're welcome, Darkmaster_

_**Finnigan01**__: burning witches? Well, who would do SUCH a thing ?_

_**justharry**__: right, plainliquid …_

_**Hermy**__: :-(_

_**Darkmaster**__: But not in fairy tales for children, Hermy._

_**Hermy**__: ok, not there, Darkmaster …_

_**justharry**__: therefore in reality, Darkmaster … so what?_

_**Finnigar01**__: dunno, I think they are just good packaged warnings for the simple folk, something like superstitiousness_

_**Darkmaster**__: you might be quite right, Finnigan01_

_**Hermy**__: maybe, but do I wish to hear this with four or five years?_

_[DenCreev enters the room of requirement at 9:41 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello DenCreev, nice to see you this evening._

_**justharry**__: hi DenCreev_

_**Hermy**__: rele DenCreev_

_**DenCreev**__: hi everyone_

_**Darkmaster**__: good evening, DenCreev_

_**DenCreev**__: thanksi_

_**Hermy**__: how are you, DenCreev?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: you're welcomei_

_**justharry**__: *liftstheeyebrowtoitshights*_

_**Hermy**__: what is it? Justharry?_

_**Darkmaster**__: welcomei?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: *lol*_

_**justharry**__: nothing, Hermy …_

_**Hermy**__: just say it, justharry_

_**Finnigar01**__: I wondered too, but I still am standing in the corner *gg*_

_**justharry**__: I just answered to the thanksi from DenCreev … Darkmaster_

_**DenCreev**__: I'm fine, and you, Hermy?_

_**plainliquid**__: that's sweeti_

_**Darkmaster**__: That – I suppressed, justharry._

_**Hermy**__: I'm fine too, DenCreev_

_**justharry**__: *loli*_

_**Hermy**__: *rofli*_

_**justharry**__: I can't do that, Darkmaster … I would explode would I suppress it_

_**Darkmaster**__: you would?_

_**justharry**__: *explodei*_

_**Hermy**__: *loli*_

_**justharry**__: you just stopp this and shut up, I can't braeth with laugher … _

_**DenCreev**__: ?_

_**plainliquid**__: *looooooli*_

_**Hermy**__: hihihi-i_

_**plainliquid**__: cheeri_

_**justharry**__: breath … I meant … I cannot even write with loaugher … _

_**Hermy**__: laugheri_

_**plainliquid**__: glucksi_

_**Darkmaster**__: I can see that, justharry_

_**Hermy**__: loli_

_**DenCreev**__: ? someone tell me what's going on?_

_**plainliquid**__: snorti_

_**Darkmaster**__: stop! (i)_

_**Hermy**__: *rofli*_

_**justharry**__: oki_

_**justharry**__: (_(_()~~~i_

_**Hermy**__: lol_

_**Hermy**__: ?_

_**Hermy**__: i_

_**plainliquid**__: the wrong way round, justharry – as always _

_**justharry**__: not-i plainliquid_

_**plainliquid**__: concludei !_

_**Hermy**__: yesi_

_**Darkmaster**__: oki_

_**Hermy**__: *loli*_

_**plainliquid**__: I'm still laughing_

_**Hermy**__: me too_

_**plainliquid**__: cooli_

_**justharry**__: you think I fare betteri?_

_**plainliquid**__: :-))i_

_**Hermy**__: it's good now_

_**plainliquid**__: crassi goodi_

_**Hermy**__: hihiiiiii_

_**justharry**__: .oO( … blimy, are we stupidi todayi … )_

_**Hermy**__: to such an extendi_

_**DenCreev**__: What's wrong with you today? i ?_

_**justharry**__: *roooooooooofliiiiiiiiii*_

_**Hermy**__: *loooooooooooli* _

_**Hermy**__: you DenCreevi_

_**plainliquid**__: *grini*_

_**Darkmaster**__: are there no adults?_

_**Hermy**__: here?_

_**Darkmaster**__: no, there_

_**plainliquid**__: just children_

_**justharry**__: *lookingaround* … no … Darkmasteri_

_**Hermy**__: greati_

_**Darkmaster**__: Don't mess around with my nickname, justharri!_

_**justharry**__ is rolling with laugheri …_

_[You have a private dialogue from justharry]_

So, this time it was Potter who addressed him. Who would have thought? But then – Potter didn't know that it was him, Snape, and he grinned. Lifting his eyebrow Snape wondered what Potter would do – after kicking him out of the room, that was – would he know that it was him, while he clicked at the message and the dialogue window opened.

_**justharry**__: hi, Darkmaster. Care for a few words in privacy?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Surely, why not? Do you want to talk about something special? _

_**justharry**__: not really, just for fun_

_**Darkmaster**__: So, you are tired again?_

_**justharry**__: *lol* … yes, I have to admit, I am. But that's not the reason I addressed you. I just wanted to learn more about you_

_**Darkmaster:**__ So you are curious?_

_**justharry: **__I have to admit, yes, I am_

_**Darkmaster**__: Then, shall we continue with our game of questions and answers we started yesterday?_

_**justharry**__: why not? Whose turn is it?_

_**Darkmaster**__: It is yours._

_**justharry**__: ok, then. I wondered – you are a Slytherin. So why would you bother to talk to students from other houses?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, we are not all evil. In fact most of us are just like you and Granger or even Weasley. We just keep up the house rivalry._

_**justharry**__: .oO( … I better say nothing to this … )_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why ever not? You might say what you think. We are in privacy here._

_**justharry**__: well, watching Malfoy – just for an example – that isn't just the normal house rivalry_

_**Darkmaster**__: I see your point. But even Malfoy is not as evil as you may think him to be. You might try to give him a chance._

_**justharry**__: *snort* … he rather would hex me into the next oblivion_

_**Darkmaster**__: I don't believe so. However, if we are at it, why did you open a room where even Slytherins are allowed in?_

_**justharry:**__ why not? Slytherins are students like all others. It wouldn't be fair if they were the only ones left out_

_**Darkmaster: **__That is correct, but WHY are you doing this?_

_**justharry:**__ well, don't know. This chat just is something like a refuge for some people_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Like?_

_**justharry:**__ don't know. As I mentioned yesterday. For me it is a chance to have contact to the others during holidays_

_**Darkmaster**__: I see._

_**justharry**__: you seem to like the chat as well. You are here every day since you first entered the room of requirement_

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to admit, yes, this room is interesting. And it is quite well looked after._

_**justharry**__: thanks … *blushes* …_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: *lol* … I see you learned this one …_

_**Darkmaster**__: *smirks* _

_**Darkmaster**__: However, yesterday you mentioned, you were doing just chores and then visiting the chat in the evening._

_**justharry**__: well, I guess I did_

_**Darkmaster**__: What I do not understand, you surely do more than just that. What are you doing besides of chores and the chat?_

_**justharry**__: nothing … there isn't time for anything else … believe it or not, but I do chores the entire day … _

_**Darkmaster**__: The entire day? _

Snape shook his head. Potter really wanted to tell him that he did chores the entire day? That he did not lay on his bed lazily reading or doing whatever teenagers in Potter's age usually did? That was ridiculous. Still shaking his head he summoned a glass of red wine from the nearby table and nipped at the drink. His house elf had brought a plate with sandwiches too sometimes during the past hour, but he ignored them. He wasn't really hungry.

After taking another sip of the wine he placed the glass beside the keyboard and brought his attention back towards the monitor and – the conversation with Potter who had answered meanwhile.

_**justharry**__: the entire day, yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Pray tell, what kind of chores do you do that takes you the entire day?_

_**justharry**__: it is not your turn …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright, then ask your question. _

_**justharry**__: well, why did you leave your home? You said you lived alone. Why?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Let me just say, it had not been fun at home. _

_**justharry**__: ok, sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: There is no reason for you to be sorry about. _

_**justharry**__: *shruggingshoulders*_

_**Darkmaster**__: So, what kind of chores would take you the entire day?_

_**justharry**__: well, there are just a lot of them_

_**Darkmaster**__: like?_

_**justharry**__: *sigh* ok, ok, if you have to know …_

_**justharry**__: preparing meals, cleaning the house, doing the dishes and the laundry, cleaning the floors, working in the garden, and so on …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, none of those chores would take you the entire day._

_**justharry**__: no, not if you had just one of them a day_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg your pardon?_

_**justharry**__: not if you had just one of them a day_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do know what you wrote. It is quite here, three lines above. I just do not know what you mean with that._

_**justharry**__: *rollingeyes* … that I have to do them every day, mostly all of them_

_**Darkmaster**__: So, you tell me that you have to prepare meals, cleaning the house, doing the dishes and the laundry and so on – every day?_

_**justharry**__: *growling* it seems so_

Well, Potter did not sound as if he lied to him. He seemed to be rather uncomfortable by telling him this. Really uncomfortable.

Well, Miss Granger seemed to be right after all – if you knew the way someone wrote, then you could read them as closely as if they would stand in front of you. And he didn't think that Potter lied to him with those chores. But then again – why in Merlin's name, would the boy do such an amount of them? What the hell had he done to gain such a punishment?

_**Darkmaster**__: What did you do to get punished with such an amount of chores?_

_**justharry**__: I did nothing, and it is not your turn to ask a question_

_**justharry**__: Didn't you have chores at home?_

_**Darkmaster**__: A fair question. Yes, I had. But not as much. Mostly I had to keep my room clean and do the dishes, or help cooking._

_**justharry**__: ok, sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: There is nothing to be sorry about._

_**justharry**__: *shruggingshoulders* _

_**justharry**__: well, before you ask … no, I really did nothing … my aunt and uncle just hate magic. And thus hate me … _

_**Darkmaster**__: I wasn't about to ask this. _

_**justharry**__: oh … sorry …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Whatever for? _

_**justharry**__: never mind …_

_**Darkmaster**__: It's still your turn._

_**justharry**__: ok … thanks … well … what kind of music do you like?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Classic. Piano and violin. Mozart especially. Why is it that everyone in the room of requirement is civil? Even friendly?_

_**justharry**__: that's easy to answer. They behave, or they get the chop. _

_**Darkmaster**__: Even the Gryffindors?_

_**justharry**__: even them. I do not care from which houses they are. The room of requirement is open for everyone, as long as they behave_

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to admit, I am surprised. _

_**justharry**__: *shruggingshoulders*_

_**Darkmaster**__: You do this a lot. Shrugging your shoulders – besides of apologizing._

_**justharry**__: maybe – what should I do otherwise when I do not have anything to say to some things you ask or say?_

_**Darkmaster**__: You have quite a point. I just wondered._

_**justharry**__: ok … what is your most hated subject?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Divination. Yours?_

_**justharry**__: *gg* … understandable … and yes, mine is divination too – shortly after history of magic_

_**Darkmaster**__: Really? I thought it would be potions._

_**justharry**__: why would you think so?_

_**Darkmaster**__: The history between you and Snape is quite legendary. _

_**justharry**__: what doesn't mean that I do not like the subject itself … and it is Professor Snape_

Snape nearly choked on the mouthful of wine he had taken while reading Potter's last remark and he coughed a few times, his face a mask of shock. Potter really cared about him not using the title professor? Damn, he _was_ Snape, and if anyone was allowed to ignore his title, then it was him! He would have laughed at that, would he not still fight against coughing. That was – ridiculous! It was Potter to whom he talked here!

_**Darkmaster**__: You really care if I write Snape instead of Professor Snape?_

_**justharry**__: well, he IS a professor … and I guess he is one for a reason … what means he earned himself the respect to be addressed thus _

_**Darkmaster**__: Ok … however … why is it that everyone says you are quite a crap at potions, if you like it?_

_**justharry**__: well, with Professor Snape making me nervous all the time it isn't easy to get a potion correctly done_

_**justharry**__: when I brew some potions in the room of requirement, then I get them quite well done_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why would Snape make you nervous?_

_**justharry**__: Professor Snape … and dunno …_

_**Darkmaster**__: I don't believe you._

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why should I be happy about that? And why would you fear Snape in the first place to a point that you mess up your potions?_

_**justharry**__: *sigh* … listen, I do not want to discuss Professor Snape. It's not quite polite to do so when he is not present … _

_**Darkmaster**__: You have a point. But, if I may ask, why would you brew potions in the room of requirement?_

_**justharry**__: hmm … well … _

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes?_

_**justharry**__: well … sometimes there is just need to, ok? _

_**justharry**__: sorry …_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~ … you know that this apologizing-thing is quite annoying? It would be rather my part to apologize for my questions_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just stop it, ok?_

There was no answer for some time and Snape took the time to wonder if Potter meant the chat room or the real room of requirement. But then – well, it wasn't as if one could brew a potion in a chat room, aside from an imaginary potion, but somehow he doubted this. And still he didn't get it that Potter was civil, that he conversed with a Slytherin, in a private dialogue not to mention and that he even used words like thank you or sorry …

Well, rather a lot of those 'sorries' …

_**Darkmaster**__: If you didn't anything wrong, then there is no reason to apologize at all._

Why was it that Potter did feel the need to apologize every five minutes? That was just annoying. And now he even apologized for apologizing! That was ridiculous! It was more than annoying, and if he would have had Potter in front of him, he would …

Well, he would do what?

He sighed. Of course he would do nothing then.

But it was frustrating.

Waiting for Potter's answer he took another sip of his wine. But no reply came.

What was wrong with him?

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter? Are you still there?_

_**justharry**__: well … yes … I am …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. I thought you have left. You didn't write back._

_**justharry**__: well … I didn't know what … to write, I mean …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why not? Because I told you to not apologize?_

_**justharry**__: *sigh* … well … yes … I guess …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just ask your next question, Potter. It's your turn._

_**justharry**__: ok … well … do you like flying?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Actually, yes. But I do not like Quidditch. Though I do not have to ask you this question back, now, do I?_

_**justharry**__: you would be surprised_

_**Darkmaster**__: How so?_

_**justharry**__: well, I like flying too. It gives me a bit time of freedom. But I do not like Quidditch either_

_**Darkmaster**__: You don't? Why ever not? You play fairly well._

_**justharry**__: well, it is something people expect me doing, just because my father was a Quidditch-player during school  
_

_**Darkmaster**__: I see._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you think you have to play Quidditch, because people expect it from you?_

_**justharry**__: well, I guess … however, no offend, but I am tired. It is half past twelve meanwhile and I had a long day_

_**Darkmaster**__: Never mind. I am tired too. Night then, sleep well. See you tomorrow._

_**justharry**__: yeah, if I can make it_

The room of requirement was empty meanwhile aside from the founders that were present all the times and so Snape just closed the windows and turned off his computer, thinking of what he had learned today.

He was quite surprised, he had to admit.

First the – well – _'conversation'_ in the room of requirement. As stupid as it had been, he had had his fun too. Even if he normally was no one to partake in such nonsense. And nonsense it had been, nothing else.

And then the conversation with Potter.

He would not have thought that Potter would defend him if one left out the term 'professor' in privacy. They were not in school right now after all. It was quite unexpected. Potter had not even insulted him, even if he had the chance to do so. He did not know that he was Snape after all. He could have said all what he wanted. He could have insulted him with everything he could come up with. But all he had said was that he made him nervous, that he feared him.

Ok, he was feared by most of the students. And he worked hard on his reputation to keep it that way. But – honestly – he was not feared to the point where they would mess up their potions. But Potter seemed to _really _fear him. And he wondered why. He never had resorted to violence or something like that. Sarcastic comments, yes. Snide remarks, yes. Taking points, yes, that too. And giving a lot of detention, ok, this as well. But nothing that would cause someone to really fear him. And he wondered why Potter did.

Then - Potter brew potions in the room of requirement – regularly as it seemed. And with success that was. But, why would he do so? Why would he have needed to brew potions at all? And which potions _did_ he brew? He had not answered this question. And again – he seemed to be really uncomfortable. So he had dropped the subject. Yet – he was curious about it.

What he had learned too was, that Potter did quite more chores than he would have expected. Because his relatives hated him. Well, he would not have believed him if he had not mentioned that they hated him because they hated magic. Looking at it from this point of view, it might be true.

He remembered Petunia Evans – Dursley now. And the woman never liked magic. She even had begun to hate Lily because she was a witch. And she had hated him, back during their childhood, because he was a wizard. Considering this, well, it was no wonder she hated Potter. Thus, Potter was not the pampered prince he had thought him to be.

Unexpected – he had to admit it.

And then - when he had told him to stop apologizing, he had been rather – well, strange. For a moment he really had thought Potter would have been gone. It was just strange. Maybe he would ask him tomorrow about it.

If Potter could make it, he had written. And it wasn't the first time he had written this comment. He was online every night, so why would he think he wouldn't make it on some point? Maybe because of his chores? Well, that might be, if he was tired, maybe.

But the greatest surprise of all had been Potter mentioning that he did like flying but not Quidditch. That he only played because his father had been a Quidditch-player and that people expected him to do so.

All in all, a lot to think about. And all in all, he was just confused. That was not the Potter he knew from school. What was wrong with the boy?

And what was wrong with himself? Thinking of Potter all evening?

Shaking his head he turned off the computer and went out of the library and into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Tomorrow evening he would visit Darren. He had already owled his father and the older McKinsky had agreed to the appointment tomorrow evening at seven for dinner. He just hoped the boy would be fine.

And next week – Monday evening – he would be dining with the Puceys.

He really hated those visits, but he knew they were important. Too many students from his house were mistreated at home, and closing his eyes, looking aside and then forgetting about it would not help them. With his visits during the holidays he did not only check on the students themselves to see if they were fine. He also made a point to the parents, let them know that he was present, that he dropped in every now and then, that they had to be careful, that he would notice what they did. Not openly of course. But they nevertheless knew he would visit, and thus they knew he would notice. And hence they restrained themselves from violence – a bit at least. But that was better than nothing.

And besides of this – he at least gave his students the comfort to just know that he cared.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Some things that are related with computers – poor Snape_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	4. a few computer things

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_But they nevertheless knew he would visit, and thus they knew he would notice. And hence they restrained themselves from violence – a bit at least. But that was better than nothing._

_And besides of this – he at least gave his students the comfort to just know that he cared._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter four**

**A few computer things**

**Saturday**

Snape stepped out of the floo and into his living room, brushing off some sooth from his shoulders and then pulled off his outer robe, hanging it onto the wardrobe beside the fireplace and with a sigh he went towards the corner cupboard. He took out a glass and the flask of wine he had opened the day before, sighing heavily.

It had not been a pleasant visit this evening.

Darren had been uncomfortable the entire evening, knowing that his father made a fool out of himself.

Well, McKinsky senior had not been really drunk. But he definitely hadn't been sober either.

When at one point during the evening McKinsky had left the dining room, Darren had apologized to him and for a moment Snape hadn't been able to suppress thinking at Potter. He had ensured towards Darren, that there was no reason for him to apologize at all, that he was not responsible for his father's actions.

Well, Darren had been fine, at least outwardly. There had been no injuries and no bruises, neither had he detected a glamour the boy might have used to cover up anything. But Snape easily had noticed the nervousness the boy had radiated. Well, he had at least been able to get the promise from the boy that he would send him an owl or an e-mail, should something happen, should his father resort to violence or should he be in any kind of trouble during his stay at home.

And Darren – as all his Slytherins – knew that he meant it. That he would find himself in quite a lot of trouble would he not address him if he should need help. As the head of Slytherin he always had made clear that he would not allow any of his snakes to suffer, not even during the holidays, and all of them knew that the trouble they would get into with him afterwards, if they neglected to address him if there would be need to, would be much worse than the trouble they ever could get into at home.

Not that he ever would beat them. No. But he would show them his disappointment. And that was something that was much more painful to his students than anything else as he got along with them very well and they always tried to do as he expected from them just to please him. They were a family and they respected him, knew that he respected them too. Something that rarely did happen at their homes. And thus, yes, they didn't want to disappoint him, didn't want to feel his disappointment.

However, Snape had thanked McKinsky for the dinner and for the evening and he had promised to visit again. McKinsky had smiled at this happily. Darren's father was not an evil man in general. He was – if being sober – a friendly and a kind man. He just didn't know when to stop drinking, and when being drunk, he just didn't have himself under control. That was all.

It was not an excuse, that was for sure. But he was not the evil and uncaring father some of the other Slytherins had at home.

Visiting Adrian Pucey next week would be much more complicated. Adrian's father was not a kind man in the first place. He knew that already. Yet – he had not thought of him to resort to violence towards his son.

He wasn't even sure if it really was thus, he just knew what he had read between the lines in the room of requirement. But it was enough so he would visit Adrian and so he would have a very close look at the boy. He never would take any risks when it came to his snakes and Adrian made no exception there.

For a moment he even considered to visit Potter, to have a look at him too. But then – he would have to explain why he suddenly took interest in the boy's home life and Minerva surely wouldn't buy any excuses. The first thing she would do, would be questioning him as to why in Merlin's name he suddenly would have a look at one of her lions.

Sighing again he turned on the computer. It was a quarter to eleven and there might still be a few of the others online. Maybe he had gotten even an e-mail from Darren with another apology for his father's behavior this evening.

Well, there was none and he was quite relieved. So the boy at least felt not the need to apologize further. Or he had been just tired. It _had_ been quite tiring for the boy.

His visits always were. And he knew it.

They had to play a game whenever he visited. They knew why he visited and they had to be careful that their fathers would not notice the real reason while at the same time they had to find a way to get through the evening either without showing anything to him or to allow him to notice some things, again without their parents' awareness, and considering of _how _afraid they were of their parents.

And never mind how tiring it was for his students, he nevertheless visited them simply because he thought it important.

Sighing and entering the 'room of requirement' he saw that really quite a few were still present.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 10:49 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening. *reachingacupofteatoDarkmaster* ... |_|) ...  
_

_**Darkmaster**__: good evening, Hermy, hufflejustin, ravenboot and slythadrian … I see every house is present tonight._

_**Hermy**__: hello, Darkmaster, nice to see you. You're late tonight. Is everything alright?_

_**slythadrian**__: hi Darkmaster … present yes, but not awake, as it seems_

_**Darkmaster:**__ I see the founders have changed the greeting towards me._

_**Hermy**__: whether ravenboot and hufflejustin have a private dialogue together, or they both are asleep in front of their computers, I don't know_

_**Hermy**__: yes, I guess that was Harry. He must have done it last night, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, I am quite alright, Hermy, thank you for your concern. I was visiting someone, and thus couldn't come earlier. _

_**Darkmaster:**__ Well, then I guess I will have to thank Potter for the effort he made._

_**Hermy**__: that's great, I hope you've had an enjoyable evening, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: maybe it would have been wiser the both of them would have gone to bed. They only will feel stiff tomorrow, slythadrian._

_**Darkmaster**__: I indeed have had an enjoyable evening, Hermy._

_**slythadrian:**__ well, they will have written asdfjkl tomorrow morning over their foreheads_

_**Hermy:**__ *lol*_

_**Darkmaster: **__Not quite an eloquent word to have written on one's forehead._

_**Hermy**__: you talk to him a lot, in private, don't you, Darkmaster?_

_**slythadrian:**__ *g* not really, no, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, we have had a few private dialogues thus far, Hermy._

_**Hermy**__: that's good, Darkmaster. He normally isn't opening up so soon. I guess he likes you a lot_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**slythadrian**__: ok, Hermy. Now – do you KNOW where he is?_

_**Hermy**__: I guess at home, slythadrian. He never goes out – so, he will be at home_

_**slythadrian**__: why not, Hermy? He is fourteen soon. He should go out with girls_

_**Hermy**__: *cough* … hmpf … Harry? Going out? With girls?_

_**slythadrian**__: oh … then he prefers boys?_

_**Hermy**__: slythadrian! _

_**Darkmaster**__: Quite the subject tonight? How amusing._

_**slythadrian**__: what? Hermy? A bit shy, are you?_

_**Hermy**__: Harry is not gay! Slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: well, Darkmaster … not really … the question just slipped me …_

_**Darkmaster**__: He already left? Potter, I mean?_

_**Hermy**__: he wasn't here yet, Darkmaster. _

_**slythadrian**__: what was the reason I asked Hermy where he was, what then led to – well, the question …_

_**Hermy**__: I guess he just had a lot of work to do and went to bed early. He wasn't really well the past few days. A bit too quiet for my liking_

_**slythadrian**__: or maybe he got into trouble with his uncle _

_**Hermy**__: that never kept him from coming into the room of requirement_

_**slythadrian**__: maybe he got into a bit more trouble than normally? It is Saturday at least and he never comes online on Saturdays._

_**Hermy**__: what do you mean by that, slythadrian?_

_**slythadrian**__: dunno, YOU are Potter's closest friend. I just mean that he maybe hides something, what is going on there_

_**Hermy**__: surely not! He would have mentioned it._

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to agree with Granger, slythadrian. You are ridiculous. Potter is famous after all and surely pampered by his relatives_

Well, Potter was not, and he knew it, he thought, while sipping at his wine just as he had done the night before. He knew it since last night. All the chores Potter had to do, Petunia hating him because he was a wizard, and this chat room being a refuge to him where he could talk to his friends because his relatives kept him from the outside world during the holidays.

No, Potter surely was not the pampered prince he had thought earlier. But old habits – or old thoughts in this case – died hard after all. And besides of this, well, he wasn't ready to take Potter's site yet.

_**slythadrian**__: come on, Hermy. You just have to watch Potter. Whenever he comes back after summer he isn't the Potter who had left two month before._

_**Hermy**__: no, Darkmaster, he is not pampered. I know that his relatives hate him, for example. And I know that he often gets into trouble with them during the holidays, whatever reason for_

_**Hermy**__: but, slythadrian, what YOU think, that is quite stupid as well. Both of you are just exaggerating. Take a middle way and you might get it right_

_**slythadrian**__: well, Darkmaster and Hermy … really, he IS thinner after holidays, and he always looks tired – and dunno, strange, scared somehow. It's no fun turning on him directly after summer before he has recovered because he wouldn't fight back then, even Draco knows this and leaves him alone then.  
_

_**Hermy**__: well, he grows over the summer and that for you might think he is thinner. He never mentioned something else than the fact that his relatives hated magic and that for him, and from what I know from the short meetings during Kings Cross, when his uncle gets him from the train home I know that he is not a kind man. But he is neither pampered, nor does his uncle use violence … and I guess we now stop talking about him while he is not here. If you want to know more, then just ask him when he is here …_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Well, Adrian had written that they never would get a truthful answer from him if they asked. But then they had dropped the subject, and Snape was quite glad for it. He did not want to think about Potter too closely. It was one thing to write with him – and the rest of them – to find out something, to fool them, but he did not want to think about Potter. Not too closely at least.

If he would have been honest with himself, then he would have had to admit that he already _did_ more than just writing with Potter. Not to mention the fact that he enjoyed it. That he already considered some things about Potter, about _what_ he wrote, and – as annoying as it might have been to him – that he missed his presence tonight. That he wondered where Potter kept himself. That he missed the private dialogue he would have with Potter would he be present.

However, Granger had changed the topic and Adrian had begun to play a game, asking questions.

Well, it had been quite fun, he had to admit. He had learned a few things about Adrian, and he himself had answered – to his own greatest disbelief – most of the questions truthfully. At least those questions who would not give him away.

At half past twelve both had left the 'room of requirement'. And as he had no desire to chat with the remaining two who were not writing anything anyway, he himself had clicked at some profiles and then began to build up his own one. Just out of curiosity. And because maybe Potter might be showing up.

Given name. Well, that one was easy. As was the sure name. Dark and Master. He wrote those down.

Gender. Easy too. Male.

Birthday. Well, should he really give his birthday away? No, surely not. Even if he could name the birthday and the year of birth separated and would not have had to give away his true age without lying. He did not want anyone to know this bit of information about him. Albus and Minerva were the only two who actually knew his birthday.

Zodiac sign, well, that was another thing. Why not? So he wrote down Capricorn.

Some of the questions were quite annoying, and quite too personal, and he made up answers to them. He might have been a wizard, but even he knew that too much information given away on the internet were a big mistake. And he had to lose quite a lot, he was a spy after all. He had to be extra careful.

Well, maybe not with this childish chat room, for no one would search information on him here. And maybe not even on the lumos-net in general, because he was sure that Miss Granger knew what she did were safety was concerned. But he nevertheless was used to being careful.

Well, in the end, when he was done, he looked over what he had written and he was satisfied with the outcome.

**Given name**: Dark

**Sure name**: Master

**Gender**: male

**Birthday**: unknown

**Year of birth**: unknown

**Zodiac sign**: Capricorn

**Character**: slim

**Height**: tall

**Color of hair**: black

**Color of eyes**: brown

**Positive things**: nothing

**Negative things**: a lot

**Home**: somewhere

**House:** Slytherin

**Family**: none

The next category was the one that was the one more annoying. Who's business was it what his favorite drinks were? Or his favorite food? Well, he supposed Potter had listed them so people knew a bit about the other users. Without the stupid game of questions and answers. He just imagined their reaction to his favorite book.

**Interests**

**Favorite books**: advanced potions making for potions mastery

**Favorite music**: classic, piano and violin

**Favorite movies**: none

**Favorite comedians**: Arthur Hilary

**Favorite games**: chess

**Favorite drinks**: different herbal teas

**Favorite food**: steak

**Favorite sports**: dueling

**Favorite animals**: bats

Well, the next category was entirely – private.

He surely would not give his e-mail away here. Well, the rest, he did not have. He did not even know what msn, icq and skype was. But really, it didn't matter either. Even if he knew, and even if he would have had those contacts, well, he would not give them away anyway. He of course knew what a homepage was, but he didn't have one.

Granger had one. The lumos-net, and it looked quite complicated. He was glad that he got along with his e-mail program, and with this chat up to now. He did not need anything more that complicated his life.

However, he made up a few answers, just to have the category done and the fields filled out.

**Contact**

**Email**: outoflimits-web-net

**msn**: thesecret

**icq**: quiteprivate

**skype**: personalmatter

**homepage**: http:/www-noneofyourbuisness-net

One last category left.

He blinked in confusion, not knowing what to make out of what was written there.

**user defined settings**

**show join/leave users**: enabled

**show button-messages**: enabled

**show warnings**: enabled

**show bot-messages**: enabled

**accept all dialogues**: enabled

**accept only dialogues from friends**: disabled

**accept only dialogues from channel**: disabled

**accept number of dialogues**: 5

**accept all mails**: enabled

**accept only mails from friends**: disabled

**accept only mails from channel**: disabled

**show channel list**: enabled

**show friends list**: enabled

**show online friends:** enabled

**show ignore list**: disable

**register channels**: C:/programs/the wand/channels

**register dialogues**: C:/programs/the wand/dialogues

**message when friend is online**: task menu

**message when friend is offline**: task menu

**message for incoming mails**: task menu

**message for incoming dialogues**: task menu

This last category, well, he did not really know what to do with that one. He just could hope that it already was defined correctly. What the hell, just for example, was a 'channel'? And number of dialogues? Five? How was he supposed to have 5 dialogues at the same time? He did not even read in the room when he had a dialogue with Potter. Not to mention answering in the room when he had a dialogue with Potter.

And besides of this, with whom would he have a private dialogue aside from Potter anyway? Well, maybe Adrian, he could imagine. Even Granger. But surely with none of the other dunderheads. _'As if Potter was not a dunderhead …'_ he thought. But well, that was quite another matter altogether. In fact, it was quite satisfying writing with Potter, as strange as it sounded.

And what was a 'friends list'? Or an 'ignore list'?

Well, when he had opened the dialogue to Potter, he had read 'profile', 'private dialogue', 'write mail', 'ignore user', 'report user' and 'add user to friends list'. Maybe one could ignore certain users and there was a list to it. Or define some users as friends and there was another list to it. He would try it later, or tomorrow, adding Potter to this list.

But what was the meaning of 'register channels'? Or the dialogues? The address there was definitely on his hard disk. That much he knew. But what did this thing do on his hard disc? He hadn't put it there. Or had he? Did this mean that what was written in the room or in a dialogue was saved on his hard disc? Well, if this was the case, then he knew what a channel was. Then the channel was the room. And it surely was advantageous if that was saved. He would be able to re-read what had been written.

Those message things, well, that was ok. Some kind of alerts or something. So, if he set Potter onto this friends list, then he maybe would get an alert if he came online?

Well, he would try it.

Searching through Potter's profile – and noticing that he had quite a lot of made up answers as well – he found what he had been searching for. 'Add users to friends list' and he clicked on this button.

_[You have added user justharry to your friends list]_

Well, ok, that was what he had wanted.

Searching through Granger's profile he found what he was searching for and he repeated the procedure, was rewarded with another message:

_[You have added user Hermy to your friends list]_

Well, one user left, Adrian and searching through this one's profile he repeated the clicking thing a third time and got the message:

_[You have added user slythadrian to your friends list]_

He did not really understand why he was so obsessed with this damn chat, with Potter especially. It was Potter after all. The one who annoyed him the most during the school term. Besides of Weasley maybe. But yet – he had to admit that this Potter here on the lumos-net was quite different from the Potter he knew from school. This Potter was civil, friendly even. And he had even some kind of humor. He was communicative and he seemed to care for others, even if those others were Slytherins.

It was half past one in the morning meanwhile, just when a short message startled him out of his thoughts.

_[User justharry is online]_

He frowned. It was half past one in the morning. Shouldn't Potter be asleep now?

Not knowing why he did it, he clicked at the username and opened the private dialogue.

_[You have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good morning, Potter._

Well, the cursor blinked. And it blinked. And it blinked. But no answer came and Snape finally closed the dialogue, wondering why Potter hadn't answered. He was still thinking about why Potter had not answered, and he was just about to close the tab as well when he noticed a small note on his task menu.

_[User justharry has added you to his friends list]_

_[You have a message from justharry]_

_[User justharry is offline]_

Lifting his eyebrow he opened the message, wondering why Potter had not given an answer in the dialogue. Why had he sent a message instead of just answering the dialogue?

_'thanks for ading me on your fl and sory bout the dia.'_ The message read and again Snape frowned._ 'just don fel like talking tonight. se you tomorow or so'_

Ok, that was an explanation. One could not always feel like talking. But honestly, either Potter's keyboard was defect and he wasn't able to write double types, or Potter was really very tired, considering the written mistakes he had made in his short note. It wasn't like Potter to make such an amount of mistakes, the brat rather wrote in a correct and legible manner normally.

Turning off the computer he left for the bathroom and got ready for bed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It had been hell, just as he had known it would be, just as it was every week on Saturday night.

Aunt Petunia and Dudley had left to visit aunt Marge – just as every week on Saturday, and shortly after this uncle Vernon had entered his room.

"You better get downstairs to get dinner ready." He had barked at him and Harry had known that his uncle would hover over him the entire time, watching him. During dinner he had been standing beside his uncle, serving him, as always, watching him eat, and he had hoped that this meal never would end. He had known what would come next. And honestly, Saturday nights were the only times he stood there, not wishing that he could get something to eat by himself, but wishing that he would get away without his uncle visiting him afterwards. Saturday nights being hungry was the least of his problems.

Well, he had gotten his daily beating, as always, and then uncle Vernon had thrown him into his room, following shortly after and closing the door. What had happened then - he rather did not think about it right now. It was over, as always, as every Saturday. And – well, he had survived after all. Even if he had been sure he wouldn't survive it. But he always thought he wouldn't survive and he nevertheless always survived it.

And the only thing he wanted to do right now was to sleep, but he couldn't. He didn't even know how to lay down without being in pain. So, slowly he made his way towards his laptop underneath the invisibility cloak. Maybe he would listen to his music for a while to distract himself. Maybe he would even fall asleep then. He didn't even mind that he would have to sleep on the floor then. Everything was better than laying on this thin mattress that reeked of his uncle and what had happened on it earlier and thinking.

_[User Darkmaster has added you to his friends list]_

He read after starting his laptop and he would have smiled if he'd had the nerve to.

Well, he liked the Darkmaster, never mind if he was a Slytherin or not. He was a friendly person, ready to write in the room as well as in private. He was annoyingly persisting, yes, but he seemed to worry about the people he wrote with, didn't see only a computer but seemed to know that there were human beings sitting behind the other keyboard. Something some others lacked.

A window popped up and he read

_[You have a private dialogue from Darkmaster]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good morning, Potter._

Well, he would gladly answer him, and even if it were just to get his mind off his uncle and the past hours, the tonight's beating that had been worse than the beatings he normally received and what his uncle had done after that. But as he knew that he wouldn't be able to write without a lot of mistakes right now because his fingers trembled horribly and because he wasn't able to concentrate at anything right now, and as he knew that he was so damn slow with writing right now because everything, even his arms, his wrists, his hands and his fingers hurt, well – he just knew that the Darkmaster would notice that something was wrong. And as the Darkmaster was so damn persisting ... well, he wouldn't be able to deal with this right now.

So he settled on just writing a small message, hoping that he wouldn't make too much mistakes or at least find them all before he sent the message, and then he went offline. He would listen to his music and hopefully he would fall asleep on the floor underneath the table and hopefully he would be better tomorrow.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Some things to be revealed_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	5. another private dialogue

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

**

* * *

**break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter five**

**Another private dialogue**

**Sunday**

It was Sunday night and after dinner Snape went – as always the past few days – into the library. He had to admit that he was worried about Potter. The fact that he had not answered his private dialogue last night, but had sent a message instead, somehow disturbed him. It was not like Potter. At least not like _this _Potter.

Granger had said that he sometimes got into trouble with his uncle, that his uncle was not a friendly man.

Adrian had mentioned that Potter was strange when he got back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays. That he seemed to be thinner, tired and scared. As he had put it. And honestly, if he thought back, then he had to agree with Adrian. It never had been apparent to him during the past years, but now as Adrian had mentioned it, he had to admit that the boy was right. Potter _was_ thinner and he _really_ seemed to be tired and jumpy whenever he came back from the summer holidays.

And from Potter himself he knew a few things too, that his relatives didn't like him, that he was not welcomed at home, that he even was hated. Just because he was a wizard.

And well – he knew Petunia after all. He doubted that the woman had changed much over the years.

And last but not least - he himself knew that Potter never got back to his relatives during Christmas holidays. He always stayed at Hogwarts.

So, all in all – he was quite worried a bit when he turned on the computer.

Entering the lumos-net he found a few messages on his profile.

_[User slythadrian has added you to his friends list]_

_[User Hermy has added you to her friends list]_

_[You have a message from justharry]_

Well, he had expected this, and he opened the message from Potter.

'_Hi Darkmaster_

_I really am sorry because of last night._

_It was late, and I was tired. A few things went wrong here. So I just did not feel like talking to anyone._

_It wasn't because of you. I would have reacted with Hermy the same way. So, please, don't feel upset. It wasn't meant as an offense. I'm just sorry about it._

_And thank you for you adding me to your fl. I really am grateful for this._

_Greets_

_justharry'_

Well, that note did nothing to lessen his worries. A few things had went wrong at Potter's home. What kind of things?

And it did nothing to lessen his annoyance as well. Again – Potter had felt the need to apologize. Even if he had already done so last night. And not even last night would it have been necessary. He had done nothing wrong. He had not felt like talking, ok, there was nothing wrong with that and there had been no need to apologize at all.

And now he did so – repeatedly. Twice in this message. He shook his head while he entered the 'room of requirement'.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 8:47 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening. __*reachingacupofteatoDarkmaster* ... |_|) ..._

_**Hermy**__: you are still very quiet this evening, justharry._

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**Hermy**__: hello, Darkmaster, glad you're here_

_**Hermy**__: is really everything ok, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: of course, Hermy_

_**Hermy**__: sure? _

_**justharry**__: hi Darkmaster. Sorry 'bout last night_

Sighing with frustration Snape noticed that Granger sounded quite relieved and that Potter sounded – quite submissive and again he shook his head. The brat had apologized yet _again!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening Hermy. You sound quite relieved, if I might say so._

_**justharry**__: just tired, Hermy_

_**Hermy**__: then go to bed, justharry_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening justharry. There is no need to apologize at all. You did nothing wrong. You did not feel ready for a conversation at all and that is quite well. It is normal that we do not feel like talking all the time. And I did take it for what it was. I did not feel offended. You are well now?_

_**justharry**__: I will, later Hermy_

_**justharry**__: sure, Darkmaster_

_**Hermy**__: I give up, you may try your luck, Darkmaster_

_**justharry**__: just forget it. What's your problem, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: I do not have a problem. But you do. You are … argh … boys!_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__ chuckles silently_

_**justharry**__: .oO( … at least one who acts normal … )_

_**Hermy**__: there – you do it again, justharry_

_**justharry**__: what?_

_**Hermy**__: you think_

_**justharry**__: of course I think, what do you expect?_

_**Hermy**__: no, I mean you write in a thought bubbly … you always do this when you are … when you … well, you know what I mean_

_**justharry**__: no, Hermy. I do not know what you mean. But please, just forget it … I am quite fine …_

_**Darkmaster**__: What about a cup of !tea ? just to smooth ruffled feathers?_

_**founders**__: here, drink a cup of tea, but careful it's hot … |_|) … don't complain if you burn your tongue …_

_**Darkmaster**__: !thank you, founders – especially for the warning._

_**founders**__: you're welcome, Darkmaster … anytime again …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Eloquent as always_

_**justharry**__: *g*_

_**Hermy**__ is rolling her eyes_

_**Hermy**__: boys!_

_**justharry**__ slurps tea_

_**Darkmaster**__: Manners, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: Manners? What are those? Can you eat them?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Regrettably – no. Otherwise you would have to eat them with a spoon, Potter._

_**justharry**__: :-)_

_[You have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Care for a few words?_

_**justharry**__: as long as you don't continue what Hermione began_

_**Darkmaster**__: Granger is right, you ARE strange tonight, Potter._

_**justharry**__: maybe_

_**Darkmaster**__: Has something upset you?_

_**justharry**__: what do you want?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I want to talk to you. You seem to be upset._

_**justharry**__: why?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why what?_

_**justharry**__: Why would you want to talk to me? _

_**Darkmaster**__: Why would I not want to? Isn't this the reason for this chat after all?_

_**justharry**__: sure it is. But there are others_

_**Darkmaster**__: You do not want me talking to you?_

_**justharry**__: listen, I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I just had a bad night yesterday and a not too pleasant day today, ok?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I take it that had been the reason you did not show up in the room last night?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright. Now, care to tell me what has upset you?_

_**justharry**__: just my uncle, but that isn't anything new at all_

_**Darkmaster**__: It seems to be something new, because the past days you did not react as badly as you do today._

_**justharry**__: it just was worse last night. Happens every few days, so no, it's nothing new_

_**Darkmaster**__: What was worse last night?_

_**justharry**__: nothing worth mentioning_

_**Darkmaster**__: It surely is worth to be mentioned when it upsets you thus. _

_**justharry**__: just forget it, ok?_

_**Darkmaster**__: You might feel better after talking about it._

_**justharry**__: I do not want to talk about it. Just forget it. Why would you even care?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why should I not care? We talked here every evening since a few days now. We might not be friends, but we are here now._

Sighing and shaking his head Snape got up and poured himself a cup of tea. Well, real tea, not imagined tea. And for a moment he laughed. What had become of him?

With his cup of tea in his hand he went back to the computer. Well, Potter hadn't answered yet and he guessed that he – again – did not know what to say. Well, something told him that – maybe – Adrian had been right. There was more than Granger saw. But why did she not see all that was to be seen there? She was Potter's best friend after all.

_**justharry:**__ I just don't see why you act like Hermione. There's nothing to worry about_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Nothing to worry about, Potter? You don't show up last night, then you send a message with a lot of spelling mistakes._

_**Darkmaster:**__ You act strange today, upset. And you say that you had a rough night and a not so pleasant day._

_**Darkmaster:**__ And then you say there's nothing to worry about?_

_**justharry:**__ yes_

_**justharry: **__there simply IS nothing to worry about_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Well, ok, then what exactly had been worse last night?_

_**justharry:**__ nothing_

_**Darkmaster:**__ If it is nothing, then you can tell me._

_**justharry:**__ just forget it_

_**Darkmaster:**__ You should know me better by now, Potter. So, what was worse last night?_

Again there was no answer and Snape took a sip of his tea while he waited, wondering what exactly it had been. It could have been everything from headaches over simply being unable to sleep up to nightmares.

Still no answer was there and he shook his head. If it simply had been the brat not being able to sleep, then he would have gone online instead.

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter?_

But still nothing and he waited another few minutes until his patience ran out and he tried again.

_**Darkmaster:**__ Potter!_

_**Darkmaster:**__ What was worse last night?_

But again, no answer. At least for a minute more. But then …

_**justharry**__: the beatings_

_**justharry**__: that was what was worse last night_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly do you mean?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your uncle does beat you? Regularly I take it?_

_**justharry**__: just don't tell anyone of the others. They do not know about it and I want to keep it that way_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why did he beat you, if I may ask?_

_**justharry**__: you won't tell?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I won't tell. I promise._

_**justharry**__: thanks_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are welcome. So, why DID he beat you?_

_**justharry**__: *lol*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why do you laugh? I do not think this is funny._

_**justharry**__: no, it isn't. maybe it's just my sense of humor_

_**Darkmaster**__: Then you do have quite a strange sense of humor._

_**justharry**__: maybe. This way I just ensure that I stay insane. And he beat me, because I did not manage to do all the chores he set_

_**Darkmaster**__: I see. How worse is it?_

Again – there was no answer for quite a few minutes and Snape had to force himself to stay calm and to not berate Potter in the dialogue. Potter would answer, he knew. Well, ok, he hoped. But he would not answer if he cornered him. He just did not know what he should write - again. So, he just should wait. He was used to such, after all.

It was not the first time he had such a conversation with a student. Well, it was the first time he had such a conversation with a student that was not in his house. And it was the first time he had such a conversation via keyboard. But otherwise – he was quite used to such conversations. And to waiting.

_**justharry:**__ I'm fine_

_**Darkmaster:**__ I would like to read the truth, Potter._

_**justharry: **__I AM fine_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Try again, Potter. And the truth this time._

Again there was no answer and he only could wait. Again. Taking another sip of his tea he wondered what he should do. If Potter would be in his house, he would go and visit the Dursleys tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, considering what Potter's answer would be. But as it was, Potter wasn't in his house.

Should he ask Albus? Or should he set Minerva on Potter's well being? She was his head of house after all. But would Minerva be able to know what to look for?

Sighing he gazed back at the monitor just the moment Potter's answer appeared.

_**justharry**__: I guess you would not really want to know_

_**Darkmaster**__: I would not ask if I would not want to know._

_**justharry**__: why?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I already gave you the answer, a few lines above._

_**Darkmaster**__: And besides, to beat a child is evil. I do dislike such behavior._

_**justharry**__: why are you upset now? It is normal, nothing to get upset about_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, it is not normal. At least it should not be normal. And now I want to know how worse it is._

Again a pause in the conversation.

However, that allowed Snape to think.

Potter showed every sign of abuse. Regularly. At least in this conversation. He was reluctant to admit that he _was_ beaten in the first place, and then he considered it as normal. The only thing missing was that he blamed himself for it. That he exclaimed that he deserved the beatings.

Well, it was missing yet – he was sure it would come up some time soon.

But then again – why had he never seen any signs before? He was used to see them, those signs after all. But Potter never showed any of them. Potter was …

_**justharry**__: dunno. How am I supposed to know? It hurts a lot, but I guess that's normal, so what? I guess it is just … dunno_

_**Darkmaster**__: Does your uncle leave marks?_

_**justharry**__: hmpf_

_**Darkmaster**__: I take this as a yes._

_**Darkmaster**__: Listen, Potter, I just want to know how worse it is. Maybe there would be a way to help you._

_**justharry**__: *lol* … otherwise you are fine, aren't you?_

_**Darkmaster**__: *smirks* … yes, I am quite fine._

_**justharry**__: you can't do anything. What is there to do? And it is just during the holidays anyway. In September I am back at school_

_**Darkmaster**__: That is no excuse, nor is it an answer. And as I am a bit older, there might be something I could do. There always are ways._

_**justharry**__: just forget it. There's nothing. Even Dumbledore knows that something's not ok, and he sends me back every summer _

_**Darkmaster**__: Did you tell him how worse it is? Did you tell him that your uncle leaves marks?_

_**justharry**__: 'course. I just tell him, "hey, headmaster, do you know that my uncle beats me to a bloody pulp every few days?" are you crazy?_

For a moment it was Snape who did not write back.

This comment of Potter was one written out of anger, and he could quite understand it. And as a spy he knew that a comment made out of anger mostly was the only true answer. But Potter's uncle surely would not beat him into a 'bloody pulp'. Now, would he?

Well, he had to admit, maybe he would. That at least would explain Potter's absence yesterday. As well as the typing errors in his short message he had sent him.

_**Darkmaster**__: That was not meant seriously of you, was it? _

_**justharry**__: what?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your comment about the bloody pulp, I mean._

_**justharry**__: huh?_

Then there was a pause caused by Potter this time again during which Snape mentally could see Potter re-reading what he had written above, he even could see his shocked face at the realization of what he had given away in his anger.

_**justharry**__: oh_

_**justharry**__: no_

_**justharry**__: of course not_

_**justharry**__: just a phrase, or a joke_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

No reply again – of course not. It had not been just a phrase, nor a joke. He had meant it seriously.

Snape sighed. Holding such a conversation this way – writing – was even more difficult than talking to the children from face to face. Then at least he could see their reaction. And he could use other things like gestures, mimics, his voice, his eyes. He had ways to get what he wanted from them.

_**Darkmaster**__: And tonight? Did he beat you tonight as well?_

_**justharry**__: I guess it's time for bed. I'm still tired_

_**Darkmaster**__: I take this as a yes. But alright._

_**Darkmaster**__: And Potter?_

_**justharry**__: ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you need anything? A potion or something? I could send you one._

_**justharry**__: oh, I forgot. You like potions_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Indeed._

_**justharry**__: yes, a pain reliever would be quite fine, but you wouldn't be able to send me one. My uncle boarded up my window years ago_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why would he do such?_

_**justharry**__: well, he hates magic. And thus he hates owls_

_**Darkmaster**__: I see. Might I ask something of you?_

_**justharry**__: of course, as long as it has nothing to do with chores. I do not even manage all the work the Dursley set me here_

_**Darkmaster**__: no, nothing like this. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I just want to ask you, if it gets worse, I mean really worse, then send me a message. And stay out of your uncle's way._

_**justharry**__: one cannot stay out of Vernon Dursley's ways. That is not possible. And yes, I will send you a message if it gets worse._

_**justharry**__: If I'm still able to do then, that is. Night to you, and sleep well._

This time he didn't even care going back to the room of requirement and he turned off his computer. He had to think.

Ok, that had been unexpected. And he was furious.

It might be Potter, the son of his childhood enemy. The one student that annoyed him the most. Harry Bloody Potter. But no matter who he was, no child deserved such. And the mistreatment of Potter seemed to be severe. His uncle not only seemed to leave marks but he seemed to draw blood as well. So, yes – he really was furious. And he even considered visiting number four Privet Drive and the Dursleys.

Right now.

Well, maybe he should visit Albus first.

Taking a handful of the floo powder he threw it into the flames and entered the grate.

"Headmaster's office, Hogwarts." He said, and whispering the password to Albus' office he turned in the grate and then stepped out after arriving at his location.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Severus, my boy. What brings you this way?" Albus asked, his eyes twinkling at him and he knew what the next question would be.

"No, thank you, Albus, I do not want a lemon drop." He said, his voice and his dark eyes serious. "I am here because of Potter."

"Surely he didn't do anything to annoy you during the holidays, Severus?" The headmaster asked.

"Actually, no, he didn't." Snape answered, his eyebrow lifted.

"Then, why do you want to discuss him?" Albus wanted to know, curiosity shown on his face. He decided to come straight to the subject, just as always.

"Did you know, Albus, that the boy is beaten by Dursley?" He thus asked.

"How do you come by this information, Severus?" Albus got to his feet, his face grim now and Snape nearly breathed a sigh of relieve. Albus would do something.

"Well, let me say, I have my ways, Albus." He simply said, not ready to give his _'way'_ away yet. "Did you know about this?"

"No, I did not know, Severus." Albus answered with a sad voice. "Do you know how long?"

"No, Albus. But I know that he is beaten by Dursley at the present time."

"Well, Severus. It might not be so bad …"

"It is, Albus." Snape cut the headmaster of. "And I wish to get Potter out of there." Honestly, what did Albus think? He should know him by now and he should know that he wouldn't come to him with child abuse if a student just got a cuff around the head.

"Severus, that is not possible." The headmaster had the nerve to answer. "And I really insist that you tell me how you came by this information."

"And I can not give you this information if you do not allow me to get Potter out of there." Snape growled and his face darkened.

"There is nothing we can do against it now, Severus." Albus shook his head. "The boy cannot leave his relatives now."

"Albus. Do you get what I tell you?" Snape asked, leaning his hands on the headmaster's table. "The boy is abused by his relatives. He is beaten by them. They do not just leave marks, they even draw blood. And last night the beating even got worse."

"I take it, you are in contact with Harry?" Albus asked, blinking curiously at him.

"I am." Snape huffed at the older wizard.

"Then I ask you to just keep up this contact." Albus even had the nerve to smile at him. "But do nothing else. He cannot leave Privet Drive."

"Stand back and watch. Is it this what you suggest, Albus?" Snape growled darkly at the man.

"Yes, Severus. Have an eye on him. But he has to stay there. The blood wards will keep him safe."

"The blood wards might keep him safe from the Death Eaters, Albus. But they might not keep him safe from his relatives."

"Did he ask you for help?" The headmaster leaned forwards and for a moment Snape really thought about saying yes. "Did he ask you to get him out of his aunt and uncle's house?"

"No, he did not yet." He finally answered, nearly gritting his teeth.

"Then there really is nothing we can do., Severus." The headmaster said, sitting back again in his chair. "The wards would crumble the moment he asks for your help, the moment he himself fears for his life in this house. Then the wards would be useless and he wouldn't be safe there any longer anyway. But as long as he does not take this step, the wards will stay in place and we can do nothing to remove him."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Snape tries to find out more_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	6. just ask for help, Potter

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Then there really is nothing we can do, Severus." The headmaster said, sitting back again in his chair. "The wards would crumble the moment he asks for your help, the moment he himself fears for his life in this house. Then the wards would be useless and he wouldn't be safe there any longer anyway. But as long as he does not take this step, the wards will stay in place and we can do nothing to remove him."_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter six**

**Just ask for help, Potter**

**Monday**

It was just another evening and it was just that he wanted to find out more about those obnoxious Gryffindors and what they were up to with this chat of theirs, noting more. And it was just a chance for him to fool them a bit, nothing more. He would have his fun and he would have a bit of a laugh, nothing more.

That at least was what he told himself while he poured himself a cup of tea. He definitely wasn't worried about Potter!

_**hufflejustin**__: what? I'm here …_

_**Hermy**__: you're not … I know that you are absent, hufflejustin_

_[justharry enters the room of requirement at 9:21 pm]_

Ah, here he came, the person he was interested in the most, even if he never would admit it, not even to himself. Or maybe _at least_ not to himself.

_[justharry gets op-rights from the founders]_

Potter just was a student who happened to be up to something during his summer holidays, gathering all the other Gryffindors around himself. And who happened to be beaten at a regular basis, he added in his mind.

_**founders**__: hello justharry, nice to see you this evening. take a coke and feel at home._

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, justharry. I hope you are well this evening?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Really Hermy? How so?_

_**Slythadrian**__: hi justharry *wave*_

_**justharry**__: hi Darkmaster, yes, I am … you're ok too ?_

_**Hermy**__: hi justharry … how're you?_

_**hufflejustin**__: hi, justharry_

_**hufflejustin**__: why? How can you see it, Hermy?_

_**Darkmaster**__ huffs at justharry._

_**justharry**__: hi Slythadrian ... *rewaves* ..._

_**justharry**__: hi, hufflejustin … *wave* …_

_**justharry**__: hi Hermy … fine, you ?_

_**Hermy**__: well, your name is written in cursive, hufflejustin … Darkmaster_

_**Ravenboot**__: hi justharry … *waves*_

_**justharry**__: hi ravenboot … *rewaves*_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... have I greeted all of them now ? ... )_

_**Darkmaster**__: I guess, justharry._

_**justharry**__: you're all alright ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, I greet them all in one sentence, that's easier, justharry._

_**justharry**__: I know you do … I should too … it's always really hard work greeting everyone here without forgetting someone, Darkmaster ... and they would kill me if I did … *g* … and don't huff at me … I am …_

_[Hermy leaves the room of requirement at 9:27]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Of course, justharry._

_**justharry**__: everything's fine, Darkmaster ... as always ... as fine as noodle soup ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: *cough*_

_[Hermy enters the room of requirement at 9:27]_

_[Hermy gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Hermy, nice to see you this evening … take a book and feel like being in the library …_

_**justharry**__ gives Darkmaster a cleenex_

_**Hufflejustin**__: *gives Darkmaster a coughing drop*_

_**slythadrian**__: re Hermy … so good you're back again_

_**ravenboot**__: re Hermy_

_**plainliquid**__: pats Darkmaster onto the shoulder_

_**Darkmaster**__: Thanks, thanks … *lookingannoyed*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Hello back Hermy, sent a mail again? ^.~_

_**Hermy**__: sure, Darkmaster ... *lol*_

_**justharry**__: re Hermy_

_**plainliquid**__: now there is silence?_

_**ravenboot**__: it seems_

_**justharry**__: *snore*_

_**ravenboot**__: justharry *nudge*_

_**plainliquid**__: oh oh … justharry *nudge*_

_**justharry**__: *fall*_

_**ravenboot**__: lol_

_**Darkmaster**__: Try to fall carefully, justharry, otherwise you could damage your delicate body._

_**justharry**__: I'm just not acclimatized … between Hogwarts and Surrey … you know, jetlag and such …_

_**ravenboot**__: looooooooooooooooool_

_**slythadrian**__: yes, of course, above all because of the jetlag justharry …_

_**ravenboot**__: lol_

_**Gryffidean**__: justharry: has gotten sensible _

_**Gryffidean**__: topples over and such things_

_**justharry**__: jap, slythadrian ... time difference ... and the change in weather patterns ... not to mention the change of language ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: After two weeks of holidays, justharry … ^.~ … ?_

_**plainliquid**__: well, then sleep, justharry_

_**justharry**__: of course, Darkmaster … I always am slow …_

_**slythadrian**__: muhahahaha justharry_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Actually, I already did know this one, justharry._

_**justharry**__: hey ... you are screaming "behead me" ... Gryffidean ..._

_**justharry**__: what a joke, plainliquid ... I'll try later ... _

_**Gryffidean**__: nooo justharry leave me alone :-(((_

_**justharry**__: thank you so much, Darkmaster_

_**justharry**__: well, then you better be careful, Gryffidean ... you're destroying my reputation ..._

_**plainliquid**__: oh, what … justharry … we're all the same in front of the founders … and what reputation anyway?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Reputation – you have a reputation, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: yes, of course, plainliquid … the one I have build up over the past few centuries … _

_**justharry**__: not really, as it seems, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, I thought so, justharry._

_**plainliquid**__: oh, really? Well, I think I'm reading you here for the first time, justharry_

_**Darkmaster**__: *lol* plainliquid._

_**justharry**__: whom, plainliquid ? me ? … ^.~ …_

_**plainliquid**__: I guess yes_

_**Gryffidean**__: *falling down*_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**Slythadrian**__: o.O_

_**justharry**__: *lol*_

_**Gryffidean**__: justharry *waitingforthesword*_

_**justharry**__: just wait a minute ... an old man is no express train ... I just entered ..._

_**ravenboot**__: can't you just fall up? Instead of down? Gryffidean?_

_**ravenboot**__: wouldn't be as dangerous_

_**justharry**__ is taking the sword from the wall …_

_**ravenboot**__: huh? Was it wrong what I said?_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, it hasn't anything to do with you, ravenboot._

_**Hufflejustin**__: no, I think they started an insider – with swords_

_**slythadrian**__ is rolling on the floor with laugher_

_**justharry**__ too ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: ah … ok …_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: what, Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Oh, nothing. I just looked at a profile._

_**plainliquid**__: ah_

_**plainliquid**__: mine Darkmaster ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Sure ^.~_

_**plainliquid**__: oh_

_**ravenboot**__: mine?_

_**plainliquid**__: loool_

_**Darkmaster**__: From the founders._

_**plainliquid**__: oh oh … the bot has a profile?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Of course._

_**justharry**__: (_(_()~~~_

_**slythadrian**__: !caugh_

_**founders**__: is opening the channel window_

_**Hufflejustin**__: hey, close the window!_

_**Hufflejustin**__: hurry up, it's getting cold in here._

_**Hufflejustin**__: !firewood_

_**founders**__: is casting a warming charm over the tavern, so no one freezes! _

_**justharry**__: thank you, now I'm cold, slythadrian ... *freeze*_

_**Hufflejustin**__: !planket_

_**slythadrian**__: that piece of wood goes onto your bill, Hufflejustin :-))_

_**Hufflejustin**__: Well, I just want to have a !planket order – just alone for me …_

_**Gryffidean**__: I want to have an order too_

_**plainliquid**__: Gryffidean: !sit_

_**justharry**__: wouldn't work anyway, Hufflejustin … not with planket … but maybe I can talk to the bot so he might give you a bbbbbblanket … _

_**slythadrian**__: you just have to think at yourself, Hufflejustin ?_

_**Hermy**__: well, I begin to lose the respect for you Hufflejustin … I'm shocked..._

_**slythadrian**__: you begin, Hermy?_

_**Hufflejustin**__: o.O_

_**plainliquid**__: hehe_

_**Hufflejustin**__: did you ever have one? Hermy?_

_**Hufflejustin**__: respect I mean_

_**Darkmaster**__: *g*_

_**plainliquid**__: you have to earn respect … Hufflejustin …_

_**justharry**__ warns Hufflejustin with the sword ..._

_**ravenboot**__: \me is ordering for himself … I mean, isn't ordered around by someone_

_**ravenboot**__: damn_

_**justharry**__: the wrong way round, ravenboot_

_**Hufflejustin**__: discretely runs away from justharry _

_**justharry**__: *gg*_

_**ravenboot**__: I can see that, justharry_

_**plainliquid**__: I too have the last word, ravenboot ... yes, mum, I'll do … *gg*_

_**justharry**__: I guess you know, Gryffidean ... a sword can be thrown ..._

_**justharry**__: *freeze* ... *shudder* ... *cough* ... *sneeze* …_

_**ravenboot**__: !firewood_

_**founders**__: is casting a warming charm over the tavern, so no one freezes! _

_**justharry**__ sits besides the fireplace, in the rocking chair, with a blanket and a mug of hot mead ..._

_**plainliquid**__: ohhhhhh … I want tooooooo … run towards justharry … _

_**Gryffidean**__: *uargh*_

_**plainliquid**__: *retch*?_

_**ravenboot**__: *retchtoo*_

_**justharry**__: not a chance, plainliquid … THIS is MINE and MINE alone … the place, the rocking chair, the blanket and the mug of hot mead … and I won't share it … _

_**hufflejustin**__: sorry guys my girlfriend said good by, she left_

_**ravenboot**__: oh oh , hufflejustin … I'm sorry …_

_**plainliquid**__: really ? and now, hufflejustin? I'm really sorry._

_**justharry**__: oh, sorry to hear that … why, did she anyway, hufflejustin ?_

_**slythadrian**__: sorry 'bout that, hufflejustin._

_**Darkmaster**__: I am so sorry, hufflejustin … ^.~ …_

_**hufflejustin**__: yes, she's on her way to Spain with her parents_

_**justharry**__: oh … ok …_

_**justharry**__: I just thought … well … never mind, hufflejustin_

_**hufflejustin**__: why? what, justharry?_

_**slythadrian**__: *lol*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Forever hufflejustin?_

_**plainliquid**__: I thought your girlfriend left you, hufflejustin_

_**ravenboot**__: uff_

_**hufflejustin**__: no, she's just in Spain for a few days_

_**plainliquid**__: ah so_

_**Darkmaster**__: well, then ..._

_**ravenboot**__: *phew* … and I thought …_

_**Darkmaster**__: never mind, I too misunderstood_

_**justharry**__: don't be too shocked, Darkmaster ... I always do misunderstand things in here ..._

_**plainliquid**__: I would be so sad for hufflejustin and his girlfriend_

_**plainliquid**__: runs to hufflejustin and hugs him until he can't breathe anymore_

_**slythadrian**__: :-)_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do not let this hug see hufflejustin's girlfriend, plainliquid, or his girl might leave him really._

_**justharry**__: you're ok, Hermy ? you're so silent ... *prod* ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: *throws snowballs through the room of requirement*_

_**slythadrian**__: the founders will be so happy about that, Gryffidean_

_**plainliquid**__: oh Gryffidean ... you better throw a cleaning cloth … over the floor_

_**justharry**__: snowballs … in the middle of summer … Gryffidean … but otherwise you're ok ?_

_**slythadrian**__: lol_

_**hufflejustin**__: well? If you clean the floor afterwards, Gryffidean …_

_**Darkmaster**__: !cleaning_

_**founders**__: get your feet off the floor, but not onto the table, I have to mop the floor … just look what it looks like in here!_

_**Darkmaster: **__That command really exists?_

_**justharry**__: *gg*_

_**founders**__: please keep from throwing snowballs, rather take the firewood ! (slythadrian)_

_**justharry**__: *lol*_

_**plainliquid**__: cool the founders can mope the floors ... phenomenal_

_**justharry**__: Hermy ?_

_**plainliquid**__: Hermy? Where are you?_

_**Gryffidean**__: I#m sure she fell asleep_

_**plainliquid**__: not everyone is without manners like you, Gryffidean …_

_**Hermy**__: sorry, was talking with mom for a moment. _

_**justharry**__: ok, I already was worried Hermy …_

Well, Potter actually sounded well tonight, but that didn't mean anything and having had his fun in the room he opened his usual evening dialogue to Potter. He would find out more tonight, he promised himself.

_[You have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: And HOW are you really, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: I'm fine, thanks …_

_**Darkmaster**__: I can understand that you won't admit being in pain in front of the others, but we are in private here, Potter._

_**Darkmaster**__: So you can drop your mask now and tell how you really are feeling._

_**justharry**__: I'm fine, as I said._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you think I would believe you?_

Of course Potter wouldn't admit how he really felt. He had been rather embarrassed about it all yesterday and he hadn't even answered his last question the night before.

_**justharry**__: I just don't want to speak about it, ok?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Understandable._

_**Darkmaster**__: But together we actually might find a way to keep you safe from you uncle's beatings._

_**justharry**__: *sighs*_

_**justharry**__: listen, there is no way._

_**Darkmaster**__: You could ask for help – for example._

_**justharry**__: there is no way. who would want to anyway? It isn't as if I ask for help with an essay_

_**Darkmaster**__: You might be surprised, and actually I am already trying to help. But I cannot do anything if you don't ask for help._

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to know what exactly I can do to help you._

_**justharry**__: as I said, there simply is nothing. _

_**Darkmaster**__: Maybe if I visited your aunt and uncle and talked to them?_

_**justharry**__: *lol*_

_**justharry**__: of course, and they would do what you tell them. They just would be worse afterwards, the moment you left, as they would be just the more angry_

Well, of course Potter saw it this way. He believed that he was a seventh year student, a young wizard that was of age in the wizarding world but not in the muggle world, just a few years older than he was himself. Instead of a really adult wizard that would be able to really do anything to help.

_**Darkmaster**__: Then maybe if I address an adult? One of the professors? They really might be of help._

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__: absolutely not!_

_**Darkmaster**__: But someone has to do something. And a professor could get you out of there._

_**justharry**__: don't you dare! You promised!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Take reason, Potter! _

_**Justharry**__: no!_

_**Darkmaster**__: A professor could get you out of this house and place you elsewhere where you would be safe and treated properly._

_**justharry**__: no! you promised! You promised you wouldn't tell anyone! I trusted you!_

_**Darkmaster**__: And I didn't tell someone._

For a moment he thought about his visit to Dumbledore's office last night. He already _had_ told someone. But honestly, Dumbledore wasn't about to do anything about it. In the contrary. The headmaster expected him to lean back and watch, to do nothing and watch. And he didn't like this little fact.

_**justharry**__: good_

_**justharry**__: thanks_

_**Darkmaster**__: You should not thank me for not telling someone as it won't help you._

_**justharry**__: I just don't want anyone to know about it. It's bad enough that you know it_

_**Darkmaster**__: And that would be why, if I might ask?_

_**justharry**__: because it is embarrassing!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Not you should be ashamed but your relatives, Potter, as it is not your fault!_

_**justharry**__: it is!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg your pardon, Potter?_

Well, he had known that it would come, the statement that it was his own fault, just as he had thought the evening before. It was coming late, but here it was.

_**justharry**__: what?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you trying to tell me that you actually think that it is your fault?_

_**justharry**__: it is!_

_**Darkmaster**__: And that would be why, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: because I'm a freak and a burden. My relatives didn't ask for me, they just had to take me_

_**Darkmaster**__: And that alone gives them the right to beat you until they leave marks and draw blood, Potter? _

_**justharry**__: listen, Darkmaster, they have their own son. They didn't want to have another one. They didn't want to have another child at all_

_**justharry**__: but they had to take me in, no one asked them_

_**Darkmaster**__: How dense are you, Potter? That doesn't give them the right to beat you! A child is to be kept safe and cared for!_

_**justharry**__: you don't understand_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly is there to understand? No one and nothing gives anyone the right to beat a child! _

_**Darkmaster**__: There isn't anything to NOT understand about that!_

_**justharry**__: if you would have to put up with a freak without being asked and without wanting to, you wouldn't be too glad about it either_

_**Darkmaster**__: First, you are no freak, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: you're attending Hogwarts, right ? I mean, we're at the same school, right ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Second, even if I had to put up with a child without being asked for, I wouldn't beat said child!_

_**Darkmaster**__: And yes, we do speak of the same school, Potter. _

_**justharry**__: so you should know me and so you should know that I'm an unworthy freak! I always get into trouble!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: First, you are not unworthy and surly you are not a freak! Second, well, let us sort this one out, shall we?_

_**justharry**__: what do you mean?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your talent to get into trouble I mean._

_**justharry**__: *blinks*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Let us take your first year. The philosopher's stone. Why did you go after the stone alone without asking an adult for help?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why did you go after the stone in the first place?_

_**justharry**__: well, actually we did ask for help_

_**Darkmaster**__: You did? Whom?_

_**justharry**__: Professor McGonagall. _

_**justharry**__: we told her what we had found out, that someone was after the stone but she dismissed us and told us to go into our dorms_

_**Darkmaster**__: And why didn't you do just that?_

_**justharry**__: because Professor McGonagall didn't believe us. She wouldn't have done anything and then the stone would have been stolen_

_**justharry**__: and then Voldie would have come back … I'm sure you can imagine that THAT wouldn't be such a great thing …_

Coughing at the sip of tea he was taking he shook his head. The nerve Potter had, calling the Dark Lord by a nickname like that, Voldie. That boy better never let this one slip should he ever stand in front of the evil bastard.

But right now that was the merest of his problems. If he understood Potter correctly, then he indeed _had _asked an adult for help, namely his head of house, Minerva. And the woman actually had turned them down and sent them to their dormitory without giving them reassurance that she would have at least a look.

And suddenly he understood. Potter had asked for help and help had been refused. Maybe just like so often before in his life with the Dursleys. So he simply had _had_ to act and do something. And he had done, and quite successfully even. But that foolish boy could have died in the task that hadn't been his.

_**Darkmaster**__: You actually asked your head of house for help and you have been sent away without getting said help you asked for?_

_**justharry**__: uhm … well … yes … but it wasn't Professor McGonagall's fault._

_**Darkmaster**__: So, pray tell, Potter, who's fault was it then? She should have been there for you!_

_**justharry**__: it was no one's fault. It just happened_

_**Darkmaster**__: As the basilisk in the chamber of secret just happened in your second year?_

_**justharry**__: well, yes … something like that._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you did ask for help in your second year too? With the basilisk?_

_**justharry**__: actually, yes … we asked Lockhart. We even forced him to accompany us when he tried to ignore us. _

_**justharry**__: but then he tried to obliviate us. But he used Ron's wand that was destroyed and the spell he used back fired onto himself_

_**Darkmaster**__: And last year? The story with the shrieking shack and the werewolf, with Lupin?_

_**justharry**__: well, we told Dumbledore what we knew, and Dumbledore told Hermione that we had to use the time tuner to go back in time _

_**justharry**__: it would have worked if I wouldn't have been too weak to produce a strong enough patronus_

Snape blinked at the monitor in front of him. That was unheard of! That was outrageous! The headmaster actually had sent two third year students back in time to solve a problem that had been over their heads? That had been irresponsible! That had been …

_**justharry**__: so it's my fault that Sirius died! He said I could come and live with him, but I got him killed!_

_**Darkmaster**__: You just stop this line of thinking at once, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: bvut why? it simply is like I sway! I got him kiled. it's my gault! I've been too weak!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Stop it, Potter! Now! This has nothing to do with weakness and you are not responsible for Black's death._

_**Darkmaster**__: First, even adults sometimes have problems with the patronus charm._

_**Darkmaster**__: Second, there simply had been too much dementors. Everyone would have struggled with such an amount of them. _

_**Darkmaster**__: And third, you did not get Black killed! It simply isn't your fault! Do you understand?_

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__: YOU do not understand!_

_**Darkmaster**__: What is there to not understand? Two third years never should have been allowed to handle such a situation alone!_

_**justharry**__: I was able to produce a patronus! Professor Lupin tauvht me! But I couldn#t produve one back then! _

_**Darkmaster**__: And I told you that there simply had been too many dementors. Even an adult would have struggled with them._

_**justharry**__: no! I just hafve been too weak!_

Sighing in frustration Snape ran his hand over his face. Damn Albus for his stupidity and for his irresponsibility. How could he have sent two third year students out into the forest, out to the shrieking shack, back in time, and on their own? Potter and Granger were children, for Merlin's sake! They were children and they easily could have died facing not only the dementors but a werewolf too. They had been more lucky than anything else!

And what for? Black was dead anyway. Soulless and lifeless. And Potter blamed himself for it, just because he was a child that had not been stronger than any adult would have been. It had taken four adult wizards, namely him, Minerva, Albus and Fudge to get rid of the dementors so they would get Potter out of there alive.

And right now the boy was close to a breaking point if he judged the typing mistakes correctly. At least he was beyond simply upset and he would have to at least try to calm the boy. What was such a simple task having nothing else than just a keyboard and written words, not being present face to face with the boy. Really!

_**Darkmaster**__: Listen Potter! As I know, it had taken four adult wizards to get rid of those dementors. So why do you think you would have_

_**Darkmaster**__: had any chances to get them under control by yourself? Even if you would have been able to sent out a patronus, it wouldn't _

_**justharry**__: but I haven't even been able to produve a simple small patronus at all_

_**Darkmaster**__: don't interrupt! It simply wouldn't have been enough, seeing as it had taken four patronuses to get control over them. You did_

_**Darkmaster**__: nothing wrong, Potter and it isn't your fault! The headmaster never should have sent you out there into the forest, to the_

_**Darkmaster**__: shrieking shack, to face dementors and a werewolf. It was irresponsible of him!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you understand, Potter? You are not responsible for Black's death! Did I make myself clear?_

_**justharry**__: you are wrong_

_**justharry**__: there would have been a way_

_**Darkmaster**__: And what way would that have been, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: dunno, but it simply has to be this way_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why?_

_**justharry**__: cause otherwise I would have been doomed from the beginning. He was my godfather, you know? and he promised to take me in. _

_**justharry**__: I have to believe that there would have been a way because if there wouldn't have been one, then I would have to believe that _

_**justharry**__: fate never will have help for me._

_**Darkmaster**__: You already do believe in this, Potter, or you would allow an adult to help you now and to get you out of your relatives' house._

_**justharry**__: but ther eisn't anything anyone could do! They simply would make teh situationworse! And you fpromised!_

_**Darkmaster**__: First, calm down, Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I promised you to keep your secret and I will do so. I just want to help._

_**justharry**__: thank you_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: There is no reason to apologize at all, Potter. It is understandable that you are upset but there is no reason for._

_**justharry**__: I just don't want someone to know_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly is it you fear, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: it only will make things worse if someone talks to the Dursleys_

_**Darkmaster**__: Let me guess, Potter, and tell me if I am right. In the past, there had been others who tried, correct?_

_**justharry**__: yes. Years ago._

_**Darkmaster**__: But I am not a muggle. I am an adult wizard and I would be able to get you out of there if you just asked for help._

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**Darkmaster**__: You do not trust me._

_**justharry**__: that's not what I mean_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly is it then? Tell me so we can find a solution to the problem._

_**justharry**__: it's just … I don't want … you would be angry then … you would think I#m a weak freak and I don't want that! I mean … well …_

_**justharry**__: I'm sure you won't want this, friendshio, I mean, and I'm sure we never will have contact as soon as we're back at school. _

_**justharry**__: but somehow here we are something like friends. And I do not want to lose you as a friend here._

_**Darkmaster**__: Listen Potter, and listen close! Or better read close! And do not interrupt! It is annoyingly enough that I can write only one_

_**Darkmaster**__: line in this blasted dialogue!_

_**Darkmaster**__: However, first: I won't be angry because of you being abused by your relatives, Potter! And I already told you that I do not_

_**Darkmaster**__: think that you are a freak, nor that you are weak! Never mind what exactly I would find out while speaking to those muggles._

_**Darkmaster**__: Concerning the both of us being friends, I am not sure what to make out of this one. But let me assure you I indeed do care._

_**Darkmaster**__: Otherwise I would not sit here and try to get some reason into this thick skull of yours. I do care and I do want to help you._

_**Darkmaster**__: I can understand that you fear what I must think, but I thought we were beyond that, Potter. I thought that by now you _

_**Darkmaster**__: would have seen that I would not think bad of you because of your uncle beating you as it isn't your fault. _

_**Darkmaster**__: Don't you trust me that I would not judge you but your relatives only?_

_**justharry**__: I don#t know._

_**justharry**__: they always have managed to blame me and everyone believed them_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you don't think that I would be able to judge the situation correctly never mind what they tried to make me believe?_

_**justharry**__: I don't know._

_**Darkmaster**__: Understandable. But would you do me another favor nevertheless?_

_**justharry**__: you do realize that each time we're in a dia, you ask something of me?_

_**Darkmaster**__: *smirk* … indeed. _

_**Darkmaster**__: However, I just want you to think it over. I want you to promise that you will do._

_**justharry**__: ok_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. Will you be able to sleep?_

_**justharry**__: yes, I guess _

_**Darkmaster**__: Good, then try to do just this as it is late and if I am correct then you will have need of at least a few hours of sleep._

_**Darkmaster**__: But if you're not able to, then I want you to come back online, never mind how late. I will notice if you contact me._

_**Darkmaster**__: and then I will be there._

_**justharry**__: alright_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. Try to get into as less trouble with your uncle as possible tomorrow. I will see you tomorrow evening at the latest._

_**justharry**__: ok … good night …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good night, Potter._

Casting a spell onto the monitor that would alert him if Potter contacted him he couldn't suppress a grin for a moment. Most wizards actually believed that muggle technology wouldn't work together with magic. He huffed. One just had to know how it was done.

His grin however soon faltered and then faded as he thought of Potter.

Merlin, the boy was in deeper trouble than he originally had thought.

Potter not only was abused – yes, he slowly but surely got used to the fact that the precious Gryffindor, golden boy and savior of the wizarding world, was abused by his muggle relatives – in a really bad way, his uncle not only leaving marks but drawing blood too. But the boy too was full of guilt over the mutt's death.

Damn, the boy blamed himself for Black's death.

He had known that Black had been Potter's godfather, what had made his hate at the man even stronger, knowing that Black not only had betrayed his friends, namely Lily and Potter, but his own godson too.

Well, as it seemed, as they all had learned by the end of last term, Black hadn't been the one who had betrayed them, but Pettigrew, the little miscreant of a rat. What didn't however change the fact that he never had liked Black in the first place. But nevertheless wouldn't he have wanted the man dead, not after knowing about his innocence. And surely not over Potter's sanity.

He hadn't known however that Black had promised the boy a home, how stupid it ever had been, promising someone a home without having one in the first place. And to an abused child no less.

Well, Black hadn't known about the abuse.

But nevertheless Potter had believed Black and had clung to the idea like a drowning man would clutch at a straw. Just to have his hopes shattered with Black's death and to go back to his abusive relatives during the summer holidays to be beaten to a 'bloody pulp' as Potter so eloquently had put it. And to be used as a house elf. And to have enough time to go deeper and deeper into his self-blaming.

And Albus wouldn't do anything. If the stubborn boy just would ask him for help. If this damn, blasted boy wouldn't refuse the help he offered to him.

Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes he sighed in pure frustration. He couldn't do anything aside from trying to persuade Potter to take the hand he offered.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Snape tries to see Potter in a different way and to give him a bit of - written - comfort ..._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too ... thank you ...


	7. you wanted someone who cares

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

First of all, I say thank you to all those who sent me get well wishes and I only can hope that you will be understanding - I cannot update right now as often as you are used to, but I will do my best to update at all and as soon as my wrist is healed enough so I can use my left hand again, I of course will be back to faster updates ... I hope you won't skin me until then ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_And Albus wouldn't do anything. If the stubborn boy just would ask him for help. If this damn, blasted boy wouldn't refuse the help he offered to him._

_Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes he sighed in pure frustration. He couldn't do anything aside from trying to persuade Potter to take the hand he offered._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter seven**

**You wanted someone who cares**

**Tuesday **

It had been a strenuous day again. He had visited the Puceys for dinner this evening and he'd had to be very careful.

Adrian had been more than startled upon his visit, even if he had hidden the signs very well. But he was sure that the boy immediately had known the reason as to why he had visited in the first place. They all knew that he visited the family of the abused children of Slytherin and Adrian surely had added one and one and had come to the right conclusion. He – Snape – knew.

The evening had gone remarkably well though. He had told Pucey senior about next year's lesson plans and that he wanted the boy in advanced potions. Adrian was good enough and he had absolved his third year, was now beginning his fourth – so yes, it definitely was a possibility for the boy. A possibility that gave him a reason for his visit with his parents and a possibility that gave him time to share with the boy next year so he could talk to him like he did with all those children.

And with time he maybe could get Adrian into the group of the abused children he had gotten together for a meeting each Friday evening. But first he needed time to talk with the boy.

_**Finnigan01:**__ I love you, I love you, I looooove you …_

_**justharry**__: ? but otherwise you're ok, Finnigan01 ?_

And right now he was – yet again – in the room of requirement. He had entered about ten minutes ago and Potter had already been present. As had been Granger, Finnigan, Adrian and Thomas.

He had watched Adrian during his visit at the boy's home and he had tried to imagine his young snake as the boy that was slythadrian, that was so carefree in the room of requirement. And suddenly he understood what exactly Potter was doing with this room. Or better – what this room caused to some of the users.

Adrian always had been a rather silent child. Very intelligent, but subdued and staying behind in the shadows. And during his visit he easily had sensed some signs of fear and misery coming from the boy, never mind how much he had tried to hide them. But in the room of requirement, Adrian was just – he was just slythadrian. As Potter was just justharry. They were just children. And there they could allow themselves to be just that.

He knew that every user of the room knew who slythadrian was, just as Adrian knew who all the other users were – aside from him. And nevertheless Adrian allowed himself to be carefree in _this room_. And somehow he suddenly was thankful for that, even if it had been Potter and Granger who had opened this room in the first place. It wasn't important who had opened this room, and who tried to give others a refuge where they could forget, as long as they _had _this refuge. It wasn't important who gave it.

Boot, Finch-Fletchley and Clearwater – yes, he meanwhile knew who stood behind the nickname plainliquid – had entered shortly after. So it was quite cramped in the room tonight. But conversing was nevertheless easier than he had thought it would be with such an annoyingly high number of people present.

_**Darkmaster**__: He is listening to the radio, justharry. *snorts*_

_**Finnigan01**__: it's a song in the radio, justharry_

_**justharry**__: ah ... ok ... Finnigan01 and Darkmaster ... I just thought it is the full moon again ..._

_**Finnigan01**__: *g* no, I'm no werewolf_

_**justharry**__: no, but you know, on a full moon we have to mute or kick out more people than normally because they … dunno … are strange somehow, as if it would affect them._

_**Darkmaster**__: It actually is always the full moon in here I sometimes think._

_**justharry**__: oh ... I'm so sorry, Darkmaster ... I hope you're not moonstruck ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: oh, I just heard, Elvis gets 70 ..._

_**slythadrian**__: lucky for Elvis …_

_**Darkmaster**__: And who will tell him?_

_**slythadrian**__: not me Darkmaster_

_**justharry**__: not me ... surely not … keep me out of this …_

_**slythadrian**__: what a subject tonight. Stars and songs?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Stars and Stripes._

_**Hufflejustin**__: what in Merlin's pants is visual kei? I don't know all those stuff and styles_

_**justharry**__: rather stars and styles, Darkmaster … *lol* …_

_**ravenboot**__: *g* ask plainliquid, Hufflejustin_

_**Gryffidean**__: *lol* Hufflejustin that's something like … gothic … kind of_

_**Gryffidean**__: just in japanese style_

_**plainliquid**__: oh ... you better ask this my sister, Hufflejustin ..._

_**ravenboot**__: *g*_

_**Darkmaster**__: It simply is a key you can see, Hufflejustin. You however should keep Merlin's underwear out of this. I do not think that he would appreciate them being discussed._

_**Hufflejustin**__: ok, plainliquid's sister, what is visual key?_

_**Gryffidean**__: looooooooool_

_**Hufflejustin**__: that's it_

_**justharry**__: *sighs* … it's something like "emos" ... just with pink between the black ... Hufflejustin_

_**plainliquid**__: jap, Hufflejustin_

_**Hufflejustin**__: well, that I understand, justharry, thanks._

_**plainliquid**__: :-)_

_**justharry**__: no problem, Hufflejustin_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__ doesn't get it anyway – yet again_

_**Hufflejustin**__: *runs the cables a bit deeper, underneath the floor*_

_**Darkmaster**__ takes the foot from the cables._

_**Hufflejustin**__: if it comforts you justharry , I do understand you. *g*_

_**Hufflejustin**__: *runs the cables more deeper* they soon lay in Austria *g*_

_**justharry**__: oh ... ok ... now I understand ..._

_**justharry**__: *lol* Hufflejustin_

_**Darkmaster**__: Down under._

_**justharry**__: *g*_

_[itsi enters the room of requirement at 9:21 pm]_

_[itsi leaves the room of requirement at 9:21]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why does itsi come in every evening just to leave a moment later?_

_**Hufflejustin**__: dunno Darkmaster _

_**Hermy**__: maybe he - or she - is looking for someone, this itsi_

_**Darkmaster**__: At a daily basis?_

_**justharry**__: well, maybe, Hermy ... just ... whom ? *lookingaround* ..._

_**Finnigan01**__: *hide*_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... hopefully not me ... )_

_**Hermy**__: oh, come on, be kind and show a heart _

_**Hufflejustin**__: never_

_**Darkmaster**__: I don't have one._

_**justharry**__: a heart ? what's that Hermy ? can you eat it ?_

_**Hufflejustin**__: yes, you can justharry_

_**Darkmaster**__: Actually, yes, justharry, and you can brew potions with it too._

_**justharry**__: ok ... then that's good, if you can eat it and brew potions with it … so it isn't something useless ..._

_**ravenboot**__: my dog is eating hearts_

_**Finnigan01**__: raw_

_**justharry**__: uargh ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: I have a receipt for a much used draught you need hearts in._

_**justharry**__ .oO( what an ugly conversation today ... )_

_**Hufflejustin**__: indeed … hey … I just heard the cookie monster isn't allowed cookies anymore._

_**justharry**__: that's right, Hufflejustin ... because the children are getting too fat ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: that's rubbish. It wasn't the cookie monster's fault that I got fat_

_**justharry**__: *lol* Hufflejustin ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: it didn't fix me onto a chair and shoved cookies down my throat_

_**justharry**__: yes, you're right ... I too think that's just rubbish ... Hufflejustin ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: that is one of the questions, which are too much for my horizon. Now there's just ColCreev and his maddening astrology thing missing_

_**Hufflejustin**__: and a cookie monster without cookies, that's just one of those things that I don't get. Does it eat rice crackers now?_

_**justharry**__: no, Hufflejustin ... vegetables ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: but vegetables do not crumble justharry_

_**Darkmaster**__: If you nibble broccoli then it does crumble, Hufflejustin._

_**justharry**__: well and Lucky Luke isn't allowed to smoke anymore ... and I really don't like him anymore since then, he really got stupid, I guess he's on the cold turkey, you can see it on his behaviour ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: really? I'm shocked justharry . well, where are the old times ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your education is so much above mine concerning – children's movies._

_**Hufflejustin**__: what a rubbish. And soon the wolf isn't allowed to eat the little kids?_

_**justharry**__: *lol* Darkmaster ... your humour sometimes is great ..._

_**justharry**__: I guess, Hufflejustin ..._

_**Hufflejustin**__: is growling_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just sometimes, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: *g* Darkmaster_

Well, again Potter seemed to be in a rather good mood and he partook in the conversation, but somehow he had the feeling that the Gryffindor only played his part. Well, maybe he hadn't been beaten today – he snorted, as if – but if it was as worse as he guessed, considering that Potter's uncle actually draw blood during him beating the boy, then Potter surely still was in some kind of pain. Even if he were not beaten today, what he highly doubted.

Well, he guessed that most likely it was easier to hide pain and misery if you were writing with someone over such a distance and with a computer between you and other people than it would be if talking to someone from face to face. He couldn't see Potter's face, nor his reactions and most importantly not his injuries. In other words – yes, it surely was more easy this way to hide anything.

Sighing heavily he poured himself a glass of red wine before he opened his usual private dialogue with Potter. He had thought a few things over last night and he had made his mind up. Potter was twenty years his junior. And Potter was James Potter's son. Not to mention that Potter was his student. And an annoyingly insufferable brat! But Potter was Lily's son too. And he had mistaken Potter the past three years. He actually had to admit that he enjoyed those private dialogues with the brat. So – all in all, it surely couldn't hurt to get to know the boy better. He at least always did so with his Slytherins.

He maybe would regret it later, after the summer, the moment they all were back at school and the brat would be his former self, but right now he was ready to take a step towards the child. Maybe he would get Potter to accept his help this way.

_[You have a private dialogue from justharry]_

_**justharry**__: *knock* … *knock* … *knock* …_

Well, as it seemed, Potter was quicker than him tonight and with a large amount of annoyance at himself he had to admit it made him feel happy. It was not only him who always addressed Potter for a private dialogue but Potter asked for those private conversations as well. He surely was about going mad, if this knowledge made him feel happy.

_**Darkmaster**__: Do come in, Potter, but close the door behind you._

_**justharry**__ enters the dia and closes the door behind him_

_**Darkmaster**__: How are you this evening?_

_**justharry**__: better than yesterday, thank you._

_**Darkmaster**__: So your uncle didn't beat you today?_

_**justharry**__: well …_

_**Darkmaster**__: So he did. _

_**justharry**__: it wasn't so bad today_

_**Darkmaster**__: But he did, and that is enough. What had been his 'excuse' this time?_

_**justharry**__: well, I didn't manage to do all the chores today. Not until he came back from work at least._

_**Darkmaster**__: Might I ask what exactly had been your chores today?_

_**justharry**__: just the usual_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am sure the both of us have different 'usuals', Potter. _

_**justharry**__: this word does not exist._

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: That is not the point. Just answer my question._

_**justharry**__: *sigh*_

_**justharry**__: I had to make breakfast, clean the kitchen and the bathroom, the rooms, the halls, make lunch, and then the kitchen again of _

_**justharry**__: course. The laundry, and luckily they have a laundry dryer, and then I had to get the lawn cared for. I hate doing the lawn at midday_

_**justharry**__: when the weather is the hottest. However, I had to paint the garage door too today, before dinner. And so I didn't manage to _

_**justharry**__: get dinner ready before uncle Vernon came home from work._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you still think it normal, the amount of chores you have to do as well as the beatings you get at a daily basis?_

_**justharry**__: well, Hermione and Ron have to help at home too. So, yes, it's normal_

_**Darkmaster**__: You idiot boy!_

_**Darkmaster**__: The amount of chores you have to do, they have nothing to do with HELPING at home! Don't you see that, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: but everyone has to do chores! Some have to do more and some have to do less!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Tell me, Potter, what exactly did your cousin do this today?_

_**justharry**__: uhm … well … he was watching TV and then he was out with his friends. And later he was watching TV again._

_**Darkmaster**__: Ah … so your cousin had to work yesterday? The both of you are switching days with doing chores?_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you had your free day yesterday?_

_**justharry**__: uhm … well … no._

_**Darkmaster**__: Ah, I see. So you switch in a weekly basis and you had your free period last week while your cousin had been doing chores._

_**justharry**__: no! I get it, ok?_

_**justharry**__: I see your point. But that doesn't change anything_

_**Darkmaster**__: Oh, but I am sure that your aunt is working together with you, isn't she?_

_**justharry**__: just stop it, Darkmaster!_

_**justharry**__: I got your point, ok?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am not sure you really did, Potter._

_**justharry**__: I did. I have to do all the work while Dudley and aunt Petunia are having a good time._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you still think that it is normal that you get beaten if you don't manage to get all the work done alone._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you even are grateful to them if the beating is – 'not so bad' as you so eloquently put it._

_**justharry**__: what else should I do?_

_**justharry**__: it isn't as if I could avoid it anyway_

_**Darkmaster**__: You could accept help if it is offered – just for example._

_**justharry**__: look, for you that might look easy. But it isn't!_

_**justharry**__: they are my guardians, and the moment you turn up there they only would get angry, and they would get angry at ME!_

_**justharry**__: they won't allow me to leave the house early in the holidays because then they would lose their slave_

_**Darkmaster**__: Ah, it actually is a calming thought that you see – they only use you as a slave!_

_**justharry**__: well, they took me in when I was only a year old, and they have to care for me. So of course I have to earn my keep_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: One moment I think you actually have seen reason and the next one you come up with such nonsense!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Does your cousin have to earn his keep?_

_**justharry**__: no, but that is different._

_**Darkmaster**__: And what, pray tell, Potter, is differently there?_

_**justharry**__: Dudley is their son! I am not! I am only their nephew!_

_**Darkmaster**__: That is no difference at all, Potter. You are family, you are a child and you deserve to be cared for just as your cousin._

_**justharry**__: that's not the point anyway. It wouldn't be possible for you to do anything_

_**justharry**__: they wouldn't allow you to get me out_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you think I would ask for their permission, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: what would you do? Abduct me?_

_**Darkmaster**__: *snorts*_

_**Darkmaster**__: That wouldn't even be necessary. But if I had to, then yes, I would._

_**justharry**__: and next summer it would be just the worse. Uncle Vernon wouldn't forget about it anytime soon_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you think I would allow you to go back there next summer?_

_**justharry**__: where should I go otherwise? _

_**justharry**__: I have no where else to go_

_**Darkmaster**__: There are enough wizarding families who would take you._

_**justharry**__: and what if not?_

_**justharry**__: can you guarantee me that I never ever would have to go back?_

Would he be able to guarantee Potter that he never would have to go back? Right now he would say yes. If he had anything to say in this, then he would say yes. Then Potter never would go back to those people. The problem was – how much say _did_ he actually have in this? As he knew Dumbledore, considering the headmaster's last words, considering his last conversation with the headmaster, the old coot would send Potter back.

He was sure that if he got Potter out right now, then he would be able to keep the boy out of there for the rest of the summer. But would he really be able to keep Potter from having to return to those damn, abusive muggles next summer?

He couldn't give this guarantee.

And somehow he knew, if he now lied to him, if he now promised him something that he wouldn't be able to keep, then he would lose the trust the boy might build up right now to him. He knew it from experience. He never lied to the abused children in his house. And he should not do so with Potter right now either.

_**Darkmaster**__: No._

_**Darkmaster**__: I cannot give you this guarantee, Potter, but I can promise you that I would do everything in my power to keep you out next _

_**justharry**__: then forget it!_

_**Darkmaster**__: summer too._

_**Darkmaster**__: Don't be too quick with your refusal, Potter! You would be out of there right now and you would have time to recover._

_**justharry**__: and what good would it do? I would have to go back next year anyway_

_**justharry**__: and it would be just the worse then_

_**Darkmaster**__: You would be a year older then, you would be able to think a few things through until then. _

_**justharry**__: it wouldn't make a difference. I am thirteen. I get fourteen this summer. And still I am too weak to stand up against my uncle._

_**Darkmaster**__: That is not what I meant, Potter._

_**Darkmaster**__: And neither does it have anything to do with weakness._

_**justharry**__: what is it you meant then, Darkmaster?_

_**justharry**__: and yes, it has everything to do with weakness_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are not weak, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: I am!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Shut it, Potter! YOU! ARE! NOT!_

_**Darkmaster**__: If you are able to endure daily beatings – and don't tell me they are not daily! – then you are not weak!_

_**justharry**__: but I can't defend myself against a muggle_

_**Darkmaster**__: You might be a wizard, Potter, but you are under the restriction during the summer. So you wouldn't be able to use magic._

_**Darkmaster**__: And defending yourself against your uncle, do you really think you would survive if you went against your uncle?_

_**Darkmaster**__: From what I learned of your situation, he would beat you to death the moment you just lifted your hand at him._

_**justharry**__: you see? I can't do anything!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Actually – YOU cannot do anything. And thus you are not weak._

_**Darkmaster**__: But I would be able to do something. If you allowed me to help you._

_**justharry**__: to have my uncle more violent next year!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Did you read anything I wrote, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I told you, you would be a year older and you would be able to think a few things through until next year._

_**justharry**__: and that would help how?_

_**Darkmaster**__: If you see that it is not right what they are doing, then you would not do everything they have you doing._

_**justharry**__: what would only cause them to beat me because I don't do what they say. It won't change anything_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do know that you might be right, Potter. I do see your logic in this. But nevertheless it might change._

_**Darkmaster**__: It is one thing to beat a thirteen year old child that does not see the abuse behind it, but it is another thing to beat a _

_**justharry**__: and you think I will risk this chance? This MIGHT change, it is just a bit too small for me_

_**Darkmaster**__: fourteen year old child that knows what is going on._

_**Darkmaster**__: There still is the chance that you would not have to go back next summer at all if I get you out right now._

_**justharry**__: maybe. But maybe I would have to._

_**justharry**__: And maybe I would have a chance next year that they wouldn't beat me, but maybe I wouldn't. it isn't enough for me_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do see your point, Potter. But do me the favour and try to see mine as well._

_**justharry**__: I do see your point, Darkmaster. But I cannot go against them because of just a small chance_

_**justharry**__: I would not survive the next summer if it got worse then because I did something stupid right now_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly do you mean, you would not survive the next summer if it got worse?_

_**justharry**__: that isn't important_

_**justharry**__: and it isn't the point either_

_**justharry**__: I just can't do anything stupid right now and risk the situation to go out of hands next year_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do inform me what exactly you meant with your comment!_

_**justharry**__: please!_

_**justharry**__: just forget it! it isn't the point!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**justharry**__: and it isn't important either_

_**Darkmaster**__: Actually it IS important, Potter! _

_**justharry**__: please, Darkmaster. Just stop it!_

_**justharry**__: I'm too tired to argue with you_

For a moment he wanted to write that that was what he wanted. Because if Potter was tired, then maybe he eventually would give in and simply allow him to get him out of there. But at the same time he knew that Potter would be too stubborn – or too afraid. He knew that it did not have to do anything with stubbornness. It only was fear that kept those children in line for their parents or guardians to helplessly being beaten by them.

The only thing he could do, was to try and make Potter seeing reason. And to do so carefully. He knew that Potter was not stupid. He knew that – even if he never would have admitted it before – Potter rather was one of the more intelligent students. The incidents with the stone, with the basilisk and the fact that they had survived a time travel last year without causing more harm than good, even if they had not been able to save Black, proved that.

So – maybe he would be able to get Potter's approval.

He huffed. As if he ever had waited for the approval of any of his students.

Well, he would have to do so now. At least until he would learn that the situation got out of hands at Private Drive. If he sensed any dangers, then he would step in, never mind with or without Potter's consent. And never mind with or without Albus' allowance. And nevertheless …

'_I would not survive the next summer if it got worse then because I did something stupid right now.'_

It was a sentence that did not sit well with him. It was a sentence that actually bothered him more than he was ready to admit. If Potter feared for his life next summer, then it might be worse than what the boy was ready to admit to him right now.

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright, Potter. I will leave it. For now at least._

_**Darkmaster**__: And nevertheless I want you to think it through. _

_**Darkmaster**__: You would be able to learn a few things for next year – IF you had to go back then._

_**justharry**__: what things?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Some strategies, some solutions, some reasons. You would be able to learn what it means what your relatives do to you._

_**justharry**__: whom should I learn that from? You know as well as do I that I couldn't just ask the headmaster or Professor McGonagall_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are right, and I know this. But I would teach you such things. You would be able to talk to me._

There was a long pause and Snape waited patiently, knowing that most probably Potter yet again didn't know what to write. The brat actually had to be shocked about the fact that he – a Slytherin – offered that kind of help to him – a Gryffindor. Or that he had been offered such help in the first place, never mind from whom.

_**justharry**__: you?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes._

_**justharry**__: why?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Listen Potter, and don't interrupt. Last night you told me that you do not want to lose me._

_**Darkmaster**__: I already told you, that I am not sure about being friends with you. A friendship is not simply formed on a whim and the _

_**Darkmaster**__: difference of age between us is a bit large for my liking. As are other differences I do not wish to discuss here and now._

_**Darkmaster**__: But I also told you, that I do care about you or I would not sit here writing with you night for night._

_**Darkmaster**__: I offer you this because I want to help you. And maybe – as strange as it is for me to admit this – because I want to know _

_**Darkmaster**__: the real Harry Potter. Not the golden boy and saviour, the hero._

_**Darkmaster**__: You wear a lot of titles, Potter, but underneath them, I begin to see, there is a simple boy. And a boy that needs help._

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you understand what I mean?_

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__; you can't!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg your pardon?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do not understand!_

_**justharry**__: you can't!_

_**justharry**__: you cannot care!_

_**justharry**__: no one can!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do not understand what you mean, Potter._

_**Darkmaster**__: You even asked for my friendship last night._

_**Darkmaster**__: And I told you that I do care and want to help you. Even after the holidays._

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Harry?_

_[User justharry is offline]_

Sighing in frustration he shook his head and got to the bathroom.

Somehow he could understand Potter's reaction. Potter had asked for a friend who understood. Not Granger who didn't know what was going on, in front of whom he had to play a part that wasn't him. And not Weasley who – most probably – didn't know what was going on either. In front of whom he had to play an act just as well. Potter needed someone who understood him and who he knew would not judge him because of it.

And right now that was him, Snape - the Darkmaster. Potter wouldn't have chosen him, and he wouldn't have told him, if he wouldn't have pulled the truth out of him during their past private conversations bit by bit, yes. But it was him and Potter clang to this straw like a man drowning.

And now he had offered the boy just this, to be there for him, even if they were back at school, had offered the boy what he had asked for just the night before. And now Potter had gotten into a panic. Had gotten cold feet, most probably believing that he wasn't worth his care and his concern. Of course the boy retreated.

Most likely he wouldn't answer at all anymore tonight. But he would keep his computer online nevertheless. Just in case.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He had taken a parchment, his quill and ink over an hour ago and had seated himself at his desk to once again work on his article for the potions journal. He really would have to get this one done soon, but somehow all those evening conversations with Potter had kept his mind busy and him from working on this potions article.

Just as tonight.

He still was not able to get this one particular sentence out of his mind, the one in which Potter had stated that he might not survive if he had to go back next year and the abuse would improve. Potter had not said abuse and he surely wouldn't do so anytime soon. They never did, those children. And Potter too did not see it as abuse yet.

And nevertheless the boy's words had been clear.

Twirling the quill through his fingers he sighed, still not understanding why in Merlin's name he was ready to …

A soft ringing sound made him look up and over to the monitor that still showed the lumos-net.

_[User justharry is online]_

He read and with another annoyed feeling at himself he felt relieved. Why was it that he felt relieved the moment he saw Potter online and still alive? Once more he snorted. As if Potter would be in real danger of dying. But then – the boy was beaten to a 'bloody pulp' by his uncle – according to the boy. So it wasn't so unlikely a thought. It _could_ be possible that Dursley didn't stop before …

What if Potter had come online because he had been beaten yet again? And he was injured and couldn't sleep because of it?

_**justharry**__: Darkmaster?_

For a moment Snape actually felt panic rise in his chest at seeing Potter's message on the monitor. Potter addressing him at such an hour? Potter asking for him at such an hour? After he had gone …

What had been happening at Private drive since Potter had left over an hour ago?

Forcing himself to calm down and act reasonable he sat down in front of the monitor.

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes? _

_**Darkmaster**__: I am here._

_**justharry**__: Merlin thanks_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: What happened, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: nothing. _

_**justharry**__: just can't sleep_

Snape actually breathed a sigh of relieve at that statement. At least Potter had not been beaten again yet.

_**justharry**__: sorry I disturbed you_

_**Darkmaster**__: You did not disturb me, Potter, as I still have been online. There is no need to apologize._

_**justharry**__: thanks_

_**justharry**__: sorry I left earlier _

_**Darkmaster**__: That too is alright, Potter. You might have been startled and there is no need to apologize for that either._

_**justharry**__: nevertheless_

_**Darkmaster**__: Is there a reason you are unable to sleep?_

_**justharry**__: don't know. Just can't sleep. I have been thinking._

_**Darkmaster**__: About our last conversation? I take it?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. _

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Will Snape be able to lay his prejudices aside completely? And what else will he find out?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	8. just another day

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Added Note:**

well ... I still – or again – say thank you to all those who sent me get well wishes and I once again have to apologize for another delay of a new chapter, but actually my wrist had given me quite some trouble lately as I already explained on my profile. I do however promise to continue working on my stories, even if it is a slow going at the moment.

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_**Darkmaster**__: Is there a reason you are unable to sleep?_

_**justharry**__: don't know. Just can't sleep. I have been thinking._

_**Darkmaster**__: About our last conversation? I take it?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. _

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter eight**

**Just another day**

**Wednesday**

Of course he had not believed Potter last night, when he had told him that he had not known why he had been unable to sleep, that he simply had been thinking things through.

Well, yes. He _had_ believed him that he had thought things through, and it had been a good thing that the teen had done so, but he had known at the same time that this had not been the only reason for his inability to sleep.

And well, he had been right. It had taken him some time and a few well placed questions, comments and at least even threats, but he had gotten the answers he had been looking for and he had been seething with rage and fury. He actually had had to restrain himself, keeping himself from snapping at the boy in this written form of their conversation – or to apparate to Private Drive at once.

**Flashback**

_**Darkmaster**__: How worse is the condition you are in really, Potter? _

_**justharry**__: Why do you ask, Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Considering the fact that you are unable to sleep, I guess that your condition is worse than usual at your relatives' house._

_**justharry**__: nice said, 'at my relatives' house'. _

_**justharry**__: I surely would have retched if you had said 'at home'_

_**Darkmaster**__: I thought so. _

_**Darkmaster**__: So, well?_

_**justharry**__: I'm just fine, Darkmaster, so stop worrying. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I am tempted to apparate to your house, Potter, just to make sure you really are._

_**justharry**__: you can't!_

_**justharry**__: you can't do that!_

_**Darkmaster**__: And why ever not. Potter?_

_**justharry**__: Uncle Vernon would kill me the moment you did!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I wouldn't let him. Don't you think that I would be able to keep you safe?_

_**justharry**__: just don't do it!_

_**justharry**__: please!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Then just tell me the truth, Potter!_

_There were a few minutes – again – during which he could do nothing but to wait and the more time passed the surer he got that Potter's condition had to be worse than he dared to admit. Not a thought that set him at ease and a few times he was tempted to simply snap at the boy, to demand an answer or to even apparate to Private Drive immediately._

_He was conversing with Potter at a daily basis now since a week. _

_He had come home on Wednesday last week and he had entered the 'room of requirement' for the first time the same evening. So yes, he knew meanwhile Potter's ways of writing – and he knew meanwhile that sometimes he just had to wait for an answer, that the boy would answer, even if it took him some time to find the words. Or the courage. _

_The term had ended on Saturday morning and – just as every year – it had taken him the entire weekend and Monday to grade the last essays and to hand in the final grades to Albus. On Tuesday evening they'd had their usual end-of-term staff dinner, and on Wednesday he had been packing and flooing to Prince Manor._

_He had inherited the manor from his grandfather the moment his mother had died. And the moment his mother had died the older Prince had invited him to live there, as he had known that Tobias Snape had been a rather – unpleasant – person. But he had refused, unable to admit that he was mistreated at home. Unable to accept the kindness the older Prince had showed towards him, too deep in the thick already to accept his grandfather's help. _

_But he often had visited the manor and his grandparents throughout the years until they had died and he always had been glad to replenish his energies for an afternoon or for a weekend until he got back to his drunken and abusive father. He knew that he was an unpleasant person, but at the same time he wondered how unpleasant he would be if he hadn't had his grandparents after his mother's death._

_**justharry**__: I'm tired, and I'm in pain, ok?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do not see what there would be ok with being tired and unable to sleep, or in pain._

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: Whatever for, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: for bothering you_

_**Darkmaster**__: If you remember correctly, I did ask you, so you did not bother me. What exactly hurts and how bad is it?_

_**justharry**__: *sigh*_

_**justharry**__: everything, somehow, I guess_

_**Darkmaster**__: I expected as much from our earlier conversations. But what hurts worse? I want to know so I can think of something._

_**justharry**__: my ribs_

_**justharry**__: and my stomach_

_**Darkmaster**__: What is it with your ribs and your stomach?_

_He hopefully was not right with what he feared. The boy was beaten at home. By an uncle that was large and fat, and surely strong enough to break bones or to cause internal injuries. Yes, he knew Vernon Dursley. He had met him years ago when Lily had dragged him to her sister for dinner one time. And he had met him again at Kings Cross station a few times where this whale of a man had picked up Potter for the summer holidays. So, yes - he knew that this man would be able to break bones if he beat someone, and a fragile child as Potter no less._

_And if that was the case, then Potter needed help at once and not in a few weeks when school started. _

_**justharry**__: *shruggingshoulders*_

_**justharry**__: guess there are some broken_

_This time it was him who wasn't able to write back immediately and he blinked at the monitor for a few times. Potter wrote about it, as if it was a normal occurrence. But broken ribs, that was serious. The boy could be lucky that none of them had pierced his lungs. What they surely hadn't or otherwise the boy wouldn't be alive anymore. Would he?_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you do not seem to bother about this fact. Do you know how serious this is, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: listen, Darkmaster, it isn't the first time, ok? It happens every summer and I can deal with it._

_**Darkmaster**__: No, you listen, Potter. To remain there is just too dangerous. Do you have a death wish?_

_**justharry**__: I live there since twelve years now and I have survived them since twelve years. So I will survive them further as long as I do_

_**justharry**__: nothing stupid that would anger them. So stop worrying, I'll be fine. It will take a few days back at Hogwarts until I'm fine, but _

_**justharry**__: I will be fine then._

_Since twelve years!_

_Well, yes. He had known that Potter lived with his relatives since that damn Halloween night twelve years ago. But the way Potter wrote about it … the way … he somehow had not imagined that the abuse had happened for such a long time. Somehow he had …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter, when did the abuse start? And don't even think about lying to me._

_**justharry**__: *shruggungshoulders*_

_**justharry**__: dunno, I think from the start on. I can remember I had my first broken ribs when I was three. _

_Knowing that he couldn't do anything Snape sighed – and cursed._

_Three! The boy had been three years old when he had gained his first broken ribs from this monster! A three year old child that had been beaten until he'd had broken ribs! alone the thought made him ill and he couldn't help closing his eyes for a moment. And right now he had broken ribs again - and he was sure that it wasn't the first time since then either. Well, Potter had said so, so it actually wasn't the first time.  
_

_Alone the thought that someone beat a child, and to a point where said child was unable to sleep because he was in pain! And he was sure that THAT was the real reason as to why the boy was unable to sleep. It was a horrified thought. Yes, he was used to abused children, had dealt with them in his house often enough. But rarely the abuse went as far as in this case. Rarely the children were unable to sleep because they were in too much pain. It happened from time to time. Broken bones, injuries that had not healed until they came back to Hogwarts, and sleepless nights because of the pain. But it was rare. And it never was a constant situation.  
_

_**Darkmaster**__: You will go to your aunt first thing tomorrow morning so she can take you to a hospital._

_**justharry**__: *laugh*_

_Blinking again in near shock Snape shook his head angrily. _

_**Darkmaster**__: What pray tell, Potter, is there to laugh about!_

_**justharry**__: I would earn my next beating the moment I asked her to get me to a hospital or a doctor, so, no, I surely won't do so_

_**Darkmaster**__: They actually deny you medical care, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: in their eyes I'm nothing but a freakish and abnormal thing that doesn't deserve medical care, but that's nothing new to me_

_**justharry**__: either. They wouldn't waste a penny on me _

**End flashback**

He had been close to ignore everything and to immediately apparating to Private Drive, but somehow the damn brat had managed to talk this out of him, against his common sense and against his knowledge that the boy needed help, and that he needed help badly. However he had managed this. The brat clearly should have belonged into his house. Not only because Slytherin was the house of the abused children, but because the boy was as cunning and as sly as a true Slytherin would be.

Well, living in an abusive household – that made a person cunning and sly in order to prevent more beatings, humiliation and maybe even death. But honestly, he had not managed to go to sleep the moment Potter finally had left – at half past two in the morning – and he had been sitting in his library, a glass of whiskey in his hands, worrying and thinking.

Why was it anyway that he worried as much as he actually did? Potter was not one of his Slytherins.

'_But the boy could belong into your house.'_ A small voice whispered in his head. '_The boy should be yours.'_

And he had to admit, this small voice in his head was right. Potter should be in his house. The boy should be his.

But he wasn't. And now he worried about him as much as he would worry about his Slytherins. In fact, he had to admit that he worried even more about that damn Potter boy than he ever had worried about his snakes.

_[justharry enters the room of requirement at 9:37 pm]_

_[justharry gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello justharry, nice to see you this evening ... want a coke ? ... |_| ..._

Well, if you speak of the devil then he comes along … he couldn't help breathing a sigh of relieve at seeing the boy.

_**justharry**__: good evening everyone ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: hugs justharry to the ground_

_**justharry**__: hi Gryffidean ... *hugsback*_

_**Finnigan01**__: thrilled seeing you justharry_

_**justharry**__: thrilled ? hm ... I guess you don't know me really, Finnigan01 , if you can be thrilled over my presence here ..._

_**Darkmaster**__ is listening with great interest to all this hugging._

_**Finnigan01**__: well, I just like everyone who greets me, justharry_

_**justharry**__: ^.~ ... I might be a really dark and evil human being, Finnigan01 ... but at least I am polite ... I always do greet others ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Dark and evil. I do know a certain teacher that is considered more dark and evil than you claim to be, justharry._

_**justharry**__: professor Snape might wear black all the times, but he isn't any darker than any of us is, Darkmaster._

_**Gryffidean**__: yes Finnigan01 … I can confirm that … justharry always greets - before he kills you^^_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am sure he would be close to a heart attack if he would read this sentence of yours, justharry._

_**justharry**__: then you better don't tell him, Darkmaster. I wouldn't want him to die._

_**justharry**__: but honestly, people say he's dark just because he looks scary and because of his snarky humour. But they don't know him._

_**Darkmaster**__: But you do, Potter?_

_**Finnigan01**__: is watching from Darkmaster to justharry and back again  
_

_**justharry**__: no. I do not know him, Darkmaster. But I refuse to call him dark just because of his appearance. I don't know how he really is._

_**Gryffidean**__: is watching from Darkmaster to justharry and back again too_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: something like that, Gryffidean ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you done yet with your tree now? Gryffidean?_

_**Gryffidean**__: :-))_

_**Gryffidean**__: well, Darkmaster I am still with the seventh son of the seventh son!_

_**Darkmaster**__: In other words, you still are with Adam und Eva, Gryffidean._

_**justharry**__: oh, you're listening to Maiden, Gryffidean ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: in other words the nephew-son who is at the same time the cousin from the grandchild in law_

_**Gryffidean**__: lol no justharry … MANOWAR at the mom^^_

_**justharry**__: ?_

_**justharry**__: seventh son of a seventh son is not from Manowar, it's from Maiden, Gryffidean ..._

_**justharry**__: definitively_

_**justharry**__: I do know that ..._

_**Gryffidean**__: I do know that too justharry ... but that's about the tree of the room of requirement, not about music_

_**Gryffidean**__: and there isn't much left to do now, nearly finished..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Just do not forget to place the grandcousin beside the fosternephew, Gryffidean._

_**justharry**__: uhm … ok … ^.~ … /me looks at Darkmaster … confused …_

_**Darkmaster**__ smirks_

_**Gryffidean**__: however, I miss some stars to place around the tree … if you have a tree – then you need stars … for when it's dark …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, I admit ... I sold the stars to a friend of my grandchild's greatnephew. _

_**justharry**__: ^.~ Darkmaster ? _

_**justharry**__: well ... and where exactly would you place me in this tree of yours, Gryffidean ? just to answer my curiosity ..._

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: so ?_

_**Gryffidean**__: o.O_

_**Gryffidean**__: you do know that you sound a lot like Snape, justharry? all that snarky and such ?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**Gryffidean**__: justharry: I'm not sure yet, however_

_**Gryffidean**__: I think ... you might be my halfsister, justharry^^_

_**justharry**__ chocks on his chocolate and coughs ... I beg your pardon, Gryffidean ?_

_**Gryffidean**__: the other half's address is unknown_

_**Gryffidean**__: loool_

_**justharry**__: you're sure you're not suicidal, Gryffidean? _

_**Gryffidean**__: sure … _

_**Gryffidean**__: you don't want to be my sister? justharry? :-((((( _

_**justharry**__: are you crazy, Gryffidean? FORGET IT !_

_**Darkmaster**__: *loool*_

_**Gryffidean**__: Darkmaster: do you want?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you wish to survive this evening, Gryffidean?_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... did I even greet the Darkmaster ? ... )_

_**justharry**__: never mind ... evening Darkmaster ... *waveslikemad* ..._

_**Darkmaster**__ waves back to justharry – but not like mad._

_**justharry**__: Finnigan01 ? are you alright ? you're so silent …_

_**Finnigan01**__: hurrikabeast_

_**justharry**__: ? I beg your pardon, Finnigan01 ? I didn't catch this one ..._

_**Finnigan01**__: well, that was … higher maths_

_**justharry**__: ah ... ok, no wonder, Finnigan01 ... I need ten fingers to add two and three together, just to get the wrong answer anyway ..._

_**Finnigan01**__: however, it's getting late and it's time for me to leave now. I still have some work to do._

_**justharry**__: night to you, Finnigan01, sleep well _

_**Darkmaster**__: Good night, Finnigan01._

_**Gryffidean**__: g'neight, Finnigan01._

_**justharry**__: ravenboot? Still with us?_

_**ravenboot**__: I will..._

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**ravenboot**__: leaf too :-)_

_**ravenboot**__: leave_

_**ravenboot**__: :-(((_

_**justharry**__ is shaking his head ..._

_**justharry**__: ravenboot !_

_**ravenboot**__: !ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: damn!_

_**ravenboot**__: *is upset again*_

_**justharry**__: yes, ravenboot ? is there something you want to say ?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**ravenboot**__: grrrr_

_**justharry**__: I beg your pardon, ravenboot ? I didn't catch you ..._

_**ravenboot**__: I said..._

_**ravenboot**__: GRRRRR_

_**justharry**__: uhm … sorry … but I still didn't catch that acoustically, ravenboot … _

_**Hermy**__: *lol*_

_**justharry**__: what, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: well, the fact that you didn't catch it acoustically what ravenboot said ... justharry_

_**justharry**__: ah, ok ... but well, Hermy, it really wasn't understandable what ravenboot were murmuring into his not existent beard ... _

_**justharry**__: how are you anyway, Hermy? You're really quiet tonight …_

_**Hermy**__: I wonder if I have trouble with my eyes or with thinking clearly today._

_**justharry**__: ? Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: well, I have a slight headache and I see a lot of coloured points sometimes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Close your eyes and if you still see them then, then your eyes are well._

_**Hermy**__ closes her eyes._

_**Hermy**__: I still see them_

_**Darkmaster**__: In this case, it is your brain, Hermy._

_**Ravenboot**__: stars or points, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: just points_

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user Hermy]_

_**Darkmaster**__: May I disturb you for a moment?_

_**Hermy**__: of course, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: I just wanted to ask: concerning your headache, you do have something against it?_

_**Hermy**__: yes._

_**Hermy**__: mum already gave me an aspirin. But I'll take it shortly before I go to bed so I can sleep throughout the night._

_**Darkmaster**__: A wise decision._

_**Hermy**__: why do you ask?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I just wondered and I could have sent you a potion if you had nothing for your headache._

_**Hermy**__: thank you, Darkmaster. That's really nice of you_

_**Darkmaster**__ huffs_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am NOT nice, Granger!_

_**Hermy**__: I beg to differ, Darkmaster … *gg* …_

_**Darkmaster**__ huffs again_

_**Darkmaster**__: I will go back to the room as you prefer to insult me here in the dia_

_**ravenboot**__: yes, because the fly has more brain than you have … *lol*_

_**Hermy**__: just funny, ravenboot. As if I want to see coloured points._

_**justharry**__: well, !mead too helps if you want to see stars … or points, sorry Hermy …_

_**founders**__: that's what justharry drinks the most … |_|) … careful, it's hot …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Hey, no alcohol here … you're all too young._

_**ravenboot**__: *lol* you know, the points out of the window are either stars or lights … _

_**ravenboot**__: *snicker*_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**ravenboot**__: I'll travel per chat_

_**ravenboot**__: staying here in the room of requirement_

_**justharry**__: you're ok, ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: *lol* yes justharry_

_**justharry**__: how funny, ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: hmm yes_

_**justharry**__: just remember me that I never give you alcohol again, ravenboot, you react rather strangely to THAT …_

_**Darkmaster**__: I told – no alcohol here, justharry …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, then you can get the room clean while you are here, ravenboot._

_**ravenboot**__: surely not!_

_**Darkmaster**__: !clean_

_**founders**__: get your feet up from the floor but not onto the table – look what it's look like in here!_

_**ravenboot**__: !coffee I can drink as well_

_**founders**__: brings a pot coffee – with sugar and milk – but careful, it's hot ! _

_**justharry**__: *lol* ... good idea, the coffee I mean_

_**justharry**__: well, the room will be clean afterwards ... spring-cleaning ..._

_**Hermy**__: you do know that we're in the middle of the summer, justharry?_

_**ravenboot**__: well, I will not clean here, it's not my room … ^^_

_**Darkmaster**__: Oh, but while you're at it, you can get the cobwebs away too, ravenboot._

_**ravenboot**__: and the corpses_

_**Darkmaster**__: yes – the corpses of all the chatters justharry beheaded with his sword._

_**ravenboot**__: :-D_

_**justharry**__: otherwise you're ok, Darkmaster ?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Of course, justharry, contrary to some other chatters here – I won't name someone I am thinking of right now._

_**Darkmaster**__ glares at justharry._

_**Justharry **__glares back at Darkmaster_

_**ravenboot**__: :-D_

Potter sounded not too bad tonight, but he had learned a few days ago that this picture was a deceiving one. The boy might be appearing well, but he was sure that the brat was _not_ well at all. Not with broken ribs. And he doubted that Petunia Dursley had taken the boy to a hospital or a doctor. Not after what he had told him last night. That boy simply was too good at hiding behind his written words.

Getting off the chair he went to the table Zilly had placed a sandwich and some tea at.

Zilly always did this, even if he would like the elf taking it more easy. He had freed the small creature a long time ago, but the house elf had refused – and stayed. To continue serving him, and nothing he could say to the elf made his loyalties towards him sway in the slightest. Zilly refused to leave him and Zilly refused to stop serving him.

Well, he of course could send the house elf away, but at the same time he knew that this would destroy the small creature that had looked after him since his earliest childhood. And – honestly – if he had to admit it, then he was very fond of the small creature too. He would do anything to make Zilly happy. So he accepted the house elf's service, if he liked it or not. But he always made clear that he did not have to do so, that he was free.

_**Darkmaster**__: Well …_

_**justharry**__ looks at Darkmaster questioningly_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why would you do so, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: because you said "well", Darkmaster …_

_**justharry**__: *blink*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Because I am back again._

_**justharry**__: ah ... ok ... in this case, re Darkmaster_

_**ravenboot**__: I only have half a piece of cake left from this afternoon :-(_

_**Hermy**__: well, better than just a quarter, ravenboot._

_**ravenboot**__: sure, Hermy. But imagine it would be a third._

_**Darkmaster**__: Why, ravenboot? A quarter definitely is more than a third. *shakes head seriously*_

_**ravenboot**__: lol_

_**justharry**__: seriously … yes, of course, Darkmaster … seriously of all things …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, four is more than three, is it not? *smirk*_

_**ravenboot**__: not in THIS case_

_**Darkmaster**__: Really? … ^.~ …_

_**Hermy**__: This was a good one, Darkmaster_

_**ravenboot**__: yes, of course, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, enlighten me, ravenboot, will you? ... ^.~ ..._

_**ravenboot**__: a third is more than ... well ... I mean ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you about to explain something, ravenboot? ... ^.~ ..._

_**ravenboot**__: well, Darkmaster I'm trying^^_

_**Darkmaster**__: *g*_

_**ravenboot**__: just take a cake_

_**ravenboot**__: put it into four pieces that are the same size_

_**justharry**__: ^.~ ... eloquent as always, ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: and another cake you cut in three pieces_

_**ravenboot**__: damn! justharry … leave me alone_

_**justharry**__: what ? it was just rhetorical spoken, ravenboot ..._

_**ravenboot**__: the cake with three pieces will be larger than the one with three pieces …_

_**ravenboot**__: *smiles proudly*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Really, ravenboot? ... ^.~ ..._

_**ravenboot**__: :-)))) yes … _

_**Darkmaster**__: You are sure that the cake with THREE pieces will be larger than the one with THREE pieces, ravenboot?_

_**ravenboot**__: uhm …_

_**ravenboot**__: *draws a picture*_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do not like cake – what now?_

_**justharry**__ takes away the crayons from ravenboot ... you are not to draw on the tables here ..._

_**Hermy**__: you really are explaining this to Darkmaster right now? ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: of course, Hermy and quite successfully^^_

_**ravenboot**__: hey! justharry! Don't be so… sooo … soooo_

_**ravenboot**__: well, things …_

_**Darkmaster**__: *grin*_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

Shaking his head at the silliness he - again - opened the private dialogue to address Potter.

Harry. He thought for a moment. Potter. Harry Potter. The boy was not James Potter. All the boy had been writing the past evenings were prove of this. Harry Potter was far from being James Potter. And maybe he should start thinking of Harry Potter as Harry Potter and not as James Potter when he wrote Potter. Maybe he even should refrain from addressing Potter as Potter at all and instead should address him as Harry.

But then - no! This simply would went too far. Potter would do - as long as he started thinking of Harry Potter as Harry Potter instead of his father James Potter. Shaking his head again he sighed. What confusing thoughts tonight.

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: How are you and your ribs doing tonight, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: :-) … take a mug of mead, Darkmaster … a cookie … and feel like home …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Thank you – Potter. Just answer my question, will you?_

_**justharry**__: quite fine, don't worry._

_**Darkmaster**__ huffs._

_**Darkmaster**__: The truth, Potter._

_**justharry**__: I AM fine, Darkmaster. I do know what broken ribs feel like if they get worse and they didn't yet. I broke them just three days_

_**justharry**__: ago and if I am lucky they will heal nicely without infection. _

_**Darkmaster**__: And you think that sets me at ease, Potter? _

_**justharry**__: I don't know why you worry so much, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: I take it Granger and Weasley do not know about your home live?_

_**justharry**__: no, and please, just don't tell them. They only would worry_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you see what I mean? People who care tend to worry._

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**justharry**__: I guess I see your point_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: There – again – is no reason to be sorry, Potter._

_**justharry**__: I didn't want you to worry. I don't want anyone to worry._

_**Darkmaster**__: I learned as much from you, Potter, but really, people tend to do so. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I have already told you yesterday that I am ready to care for you, never mind the history between – our houses._

_**justharry**__: sorry that I left so quickly_

_**Darkmaster**__: There is no reason to apologize for that, Potter, as I already told you last night. You have been startled and I do understand_

_**Darkmaster**__: your reaction. But I do mean what I wrote yesterday._

_**justharry**__: I just don't understand why you would_

_**Darkmaster**__: Is it necessary to be a reason there?_

_**justharry**__: don't know … I just don't understand it._

_**Darkmaster**__: As I said last night, Potter, you wear a lot of titles on your back. And as I told you last night, underneath those titles you are_

_**Darkmaster**__: but a boy. And I am ready to learn more about this simply boy. I am ready to take a step I normally never would take. So – I_

_**Darkmaster**__: cannot give you a reason, simply because I do not have one for myself. _

_**justharry**__: ok … I think I will have to accept the simply fact. _

_**Darkmaster**__: Exactly._

_**Darkmaster**__: So – are you sure that your ribs are not worse yet?_

_**justharry**__: yes, I'm sure. I know what it feels like if they get worse and it doesn't feel like it yet._

_**Darkmaster**__: You will tell me immediately if it gets worse, Potter, and never mind what time of day – or night – it is. Is that understood, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: yes, dad!_

For a moment Snape actually held his breath and stared at the monitor in front of him, shock the only feeling that took hold of him and he actually had to struggle to regain his breathing and his control over his fingers back to write an answer before Potter got suspicious while at the same time he wondered why in Merlin's name this term upset him so much.

He should have sneered at the term and answered with a biting remark.

But – once more that brat had managed to turn his world upside down since he had started to visit this imaginary room of requirement.

_**Darkmaster**__: You better are thankful that I am not your father, Potter, for I surely would have your hide at least once a week_

_**justharry **__grins madly_

_**justharry**__: maybe you would, but wouldn't that be what every parent would do from time to time? _

_**Darkmaster**__: You would curse me soon enough, believe me, Potter._

_**justharry**__: maybe I would, but wouldn't that be what every child would do from time to time?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Maybe I should spell your fingers clued to the keyboard, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: fjkdsl skdfljd dlsfjasdlkdjf fdkslafkdjas_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg your pardon, Potter? I didn't catch that … _

_**justharry**__: ldfkjksdlfj_

_**Darkmaster **__smirks_

_**Darkmaster**__: .oO( How nice to have a moment of peace )_

_**justharry**__: *huff*_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: How has your day been, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: as always … it has been just another day …_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_You are too stubborn for your own good …_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	9. I beg your pardon?

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_**Darkmaster**__: .oO( How nice to have a moment of peace )_

_**Justharry**__: *huff*_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: How has your day been, Potter?_

_**Justharry**__: As always … it has been just another day …_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter nine**

**I beg your pardon?**

**Thursday**

He still did not really understand why in Merlin's name he worried that much about Potter. He didn't understand his obsession with that particular student.

Well, of course he was worried.

Potter was a slave to his relatives, a slave that was locked up by them in his room with a boarded up window whenever he had no work to do, so he had no way of sending an owl or getting help, they refused to even provide Potter with medical care and he definitely was abused verbally. What wasn't the worst however as he had learned that he was beaten by his relatives to a point where marks were left, where blood was drawn, to a point where the brat was unable to sleep because of broken ribs, to a point where the brat feared for his life if it would get worse.

So – all in all, he had to admit that the abuse the Dursleys bestowed upon Potter was unusually severe and indeed reason to worry - and maybe that was the reason why in Merlin's name he worried more about Potter than he would worry about one of his Slytherins.

He had them in his house each year, the abused children. In each year he had at least one of them. And of course he always worried about them, visited them during the summer holidays to ensure they were alright, but in all his years as a teacher he only once had felt the need to actually take a student out of his home life.

Well, yes. He always wished he could keep them out of their homes during the summer, but he also knew that they were children from Death Eaters mostly and so he had no chance to actually do much. But once, five years ago, there had been a student he had felt the need to actually get out of his home nevertheless.

The moment he had reached Carlisle and the boy's home however, the child had been already dead.

Not a thought that helped him right now, he noticed, as this thought only increased his worries about Potter.

Never before, and never again he'd had a student that had been abused that badly.

But Potter already was injured. He had broken ribs. And he had said that his stomach hurt. And he wasn't taken care of.

How worse was it really?

He felt that the boy had not lied to him. He actually _knew_ that the boy had not lied to him. But at the same time he knew that the boy had not told him the entire truth either, that he had withheld some of the abuse from him. And talking to him with a keyboard and a monitor between them didn't help him to get the answers he wanted. He needed to see the boy.

What wasn't possible if he didn't wish to go against Dumbledore – and said boy himself.

He knew that Potter only acted out of fear, that he didn't trust anyone, that he didn't trust anyone could actually help him with his problems. The boy had given help to others, as he had learned during the past nightly conversations with Potter, but he did not trust anyone enough to ask for help for himself.

But the boy needed help, and badly so.

He didn't understand why and he couldn't help it either, but every time he tried to imagine _how_ the child must feel his stomach churned painfully and he considered going against the headmaster and apparate to Private Drive immediately.

Closing his eyes and giving away a heavy sigh he turned on his computer and then entered the room of requirement – as he had done each night since more than a week now.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 10:14 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening … want a cup of tea? … |_|) …_

_**justharry**__: hi Darkmaster, hope you're allright_

_**slythadrian**__: Hello Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, justharry. Yes, I am alright, I hope you as well._

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, slythadrian. _

_**gryffidean**__: hi, Darkmaster_

_**justharry**__: of course, Darkmaster, I'm fine_

_**slythadrian**__: *snorts*_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, gryffidean._

_**slythadrian**__: you're such a liar, justharry_

_**justharry**__ is not gulty ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Really?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**justharry**__: do you daoubt me, Darkmaster ?_

_**gryffidean**__: justharry but only this time lol_

_**Darkmaster**__: Why ever should I, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: I beg your pardon ? gryffidean ? I#m never guilty ..._

_**justharry**__ blushes ..._

_**justharry**__: uhn … just so, Darkmaster ... I just thought because of syour question ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: You are blushing, justharry? You are the most pale being I ever have seen, justharry_

_**justharry**__: I wouldn'T want to be innocent ... tp be innocent and good is boring ..._

_**justharry**__: that's not true Darkmaster ..._

_**gryffidean**__: founders put out the lights justharry blushes and shines red *lol*_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... not everyone has to know that I'm a vamprire ... )_

_**justharry**__: hey … keep the candles burning, founders ..._

_**gryffidean**__: you won't get MY blood, justharry_

_**justharry**__ is padding in the adrk_

_**gryffidean**__: justharry … careful … wall …_

_**justharry**__: ouch!_

_**justharry**__: couldn' cou have told me earlier, gryffidean ?_

_**justharry**__: *is rubbing his head* ..._

_**gryffidean**__: nooo … I always thought that bats have sonar_

_**gryffidean**__: - has a call_

_**justharry**__: it's not me_

_**justharry**__ is innocent ..._

_[Mione enters the room of requirement at 10:41 pm]_

_[Mione gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Mione, nice to see you this evening. Want to read a good book?_

_**Mione**__ runs to justharry and hugs him to the floor_

_**Mione:**__ hello, Darkmaster, nice to see you_

_**Darkmaster:**__ Good evening, Mione, the same goes for me_

_**justharry**__: oh oh ... ? ..._

_**Mione**__: hi slythadrian, you're fine?_

_**justharry**__ looks carefully at Mione ..._

_[slythadrian leaves the room of requirement at 10:42 pm]_

_**Gryffidean**__: *loooool* … he's gone … hi Mione_

_**Mione**__: did I do something wrong?_

_**Mione**__: hi Gryffidean_

_[slythadrian enters the room of requirement at 10:43 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello slythadrian, nice to see you this evening. Hope you won't be too scared from the lions here … _

_**gryffidean**__: re slythadrian, this time you have upset Mione really badly_

_**justharry**__ blinks in irritataion ..._

_**Mione**__: wow justharry … *release* _

_**slythadrian**__: hello Mione … sorry … had a short flight_

_**justharry**__: thanks, Mione ... I have become already blue ..._

_**Mione**__: ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh sorry … justharry_

_**justharry**__: never mind, Mione ..._

_**justharry**__ is about to wonder who in Merlin'S name Mione is ..._

_**Mione**__: justharry ! I'm Hermy_

_**Darkmaster**__: Mione = Hermy, justharry._

_**justharry**__: ah … *look closely+ … yes, yet I recognize you ... hi Hermy … uhm, Mione ... I meant ... *rehugs* ..._

_**gryffidean**__: justharry are you blond?_

_**justharry**__: yes, of course I am, gryffidean ... am I not ? ... *lol*_

_**Darkmaster**__: justharry is so not blond, gryffidean._

_**justharry**__: *lol* ..._

_**justharry**__: shall you attack me from behind, Darkmaster ? I've neen sure you would support my statement ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: I am not able to lie._

_**justharry**__: damn, Darkmaster ... why not ?_

_**Mione**__: no, but you can twist the truth a bit … Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: I lack in practicing this, Mione and justharry._

_**justharry**__: it would have been fyn … Darkmaster …_

_**justharry**__: ok, for our next meetong at September the first, I will get my hair blond ... Darkmaster ... gryffidean ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... I just wonder who will believe this one ... )_

_[slythadrian leaves the room of requirement at 10:51 pm]_

_[slythadrian enters the room of requirement at 10:51 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello slythadrian, nice to see you this evening. Hope you won't be too scared from the lions here … _

_**slythadrian**__: *loool* founders …_

_**justharry**__: re slythadrian ... I'm beginning to set up a standing order ..._

_**slythadrian**__: *plop* crash-landing_

_**justharry**__: a crash-landing with a plop ? slythadrian ? ..._

_**slythadrian**__: the flying instructor is throwing up …_

_**slythadrian**__: well, if the runway isn't lit – it's not so easy_

_**Darkmaster**__: The runway IS lit, it's no wonder if you take the field besides, slythadrian._

_**Mione**__: no, Darkmaster, I just turned off the lights_

_**slythadrian**__: that's why it was such a bouncing landing, Darkmaster_

_**Mione**__: to save power_

_**slythadrian**__: hey … power comes from the socket anyway_

_**gryffidean**__: so you have to place candles for the next landing slythadrian pulls_

_**slythadrian**__: but please, not those from the graveyard again, gryffidean_

_**justharry**__: yes, in form of small blue worms ... and they are bitting you into your fingers if you put them into the socket ... yes ... my mother told me so when I was really small ..._

_**gryffidean**__: and you have put your finger in because you have been curious, justharry?_

_**Darkmaster**__: When you have been small, justharry? ^.~_

_**justharry**__: of course, gryffidean ... I have ... and nothing happened, because of the small blue worms had bot been at home ..._

_**justharry**__: *lol* ... Darkmaster ... ok, I have to rephrase athat one ... when I was really young ..._

_**Darkmaster**__: *g*_

_**gryffidean**__: well, it has to be ceremonial, your next landing, slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: of course – and I want a blues-band playing_

_**gryffidean**__: and a buffet being placed along the runway, slythadrian?_

_**slythadrian**__: of course – if you're at it_

_**gryffidean**__: slythadrian: ok, but only if you pull a picture-book landing and no bouncing while landing slythadrian_

_**justharry**__: *bounce* ... *bounce* ... *bounce* ..._

_**slythadrian**__: I will try my best_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He took a sip of the whiskey he had poured earlier, gritting his teeth in frustration and running his hand over his face every now and then. Considering the typing errors Potter made – he was upset, and very upset. He however acted as if nothing was wrong.

Of course he acted as if nothing was wrong. He always acted as if nothing was wrong.

What had upset the boy so much that he wasn't able to write without typing errors? Was he just tired and not able to concentrate? Was he in pain somehow?

Stupid question.

Of course Potter was in pain. He had broken ribs after all and unless the boy had healed himself with accidental magic, he would have troubles with them for a bit longer.

But he'd had his ribs broken yesterday too, and he the day before yesterday, and he had not written so awful then. So …

_**gryffidean**__: are you still alive, justharry?_

_**slythadrian**__: hellooooooo justharry_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, Gryffidean … did you forget that justharry is a vampire? Vampires are dead creatures ..._

_**slythadrian**__: justharry is sleeping_

_**Mione**__: no … justharry is bored dead …_

_**slythadrian **__will be turned by justharry … argh … *bleed* … *die* … _

_**justharry**__: wel, it was SOU who said that, slythadrian ..._

_**justharry**__ \me innocent is ..._

_**justharry **__innocent is ..._

_**justharry**__ and in the dark – as alwasys ..._

_[You have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, Potter._

_**justharry**__: hi _

_**Darkmaster**__: How are you today?_

_**justharry**__: fine thanks, you?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do not lie to me. That 'fine, thanks' might work with Granger and the rest, but not with me. So, how are you?_

Well, how should it be otherwise, there was no immediate answer to his question. He had known after all that it would be the same as it had been last night.

_[You have a private dialogue from Hermy]_

Granger? Addressing him in a private dialogue? Lifting his eyebrow he clicked on the message and opened the small window.

_**Hermy**__: Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes?_

_**Hermy**__: do you have Harry? In a dialogue I mean?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, I actually do have him in a dialogue._

_**Hermy**__: thanks. He doesn't respond to my dialogue … he doesn't speak with me … and in the room he makes so many typing errors. That isn't like him. And he is so slow … and he still does not answer my dialogue … I'm worried …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Calm down, Granger, I do have him here and he is talking to me._

_**Hermy**__: thank you_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are welcome. But as I cannot concentrate on two conversations at the same time, I will go back to Potter's dialogue._

_**Hermy**__: ok. Thanks, 'til later_

So, Potter refused to answer Granger's dialogues? But why then did he answer his?

Well, at least Potter had given an answer meanwhile.

_**justharry**__: tired, hungry andI hutr all over_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you seem to have a knot in your fingers too._

_**justharry**__: oh … yes … sorry. _

_**Darkmaster**__: No problem. Tired? Then maybe you should go to bed and sleep._

_**justharry**__: can't. I just hurt too much_

_**Darkmaster**__: He did beat you again._

_**justharry**__: he doesevery day. It's not a big deal_

_**Darkmaster**__: I already told you, it is wrong. Do not take it so lightly._

_**justharry**__: there's nothing I could do to prevent it anywy, so why not take it lightly_

_**Darkmaster**__: You said you are hungry. Go and eat something before we go on with our conversation. I will wait._

_**justharry**__: course. I sneak down into the kitchen and get something to eat, hopeful that he woul not catch me. I never managed THAT_

_**Darkmaster**__: What exactly do you mean by this? I did not say you should sneak out for food _

_**justharry**__: going donw and ask him for something to eat would be my death sentence. Just as when I sneak donw to steal something to eat_

_**Darkmaster**__: Stealing food?_

_**justharry**__: listen, I don't know how things were at your home. and I DO know that one should nto steal. but I do plan to survive the summer_

_**Darkmaster**__: I didn't mean it this way. But your uncle surely would provide you with food._

_**justharry**__: try him_

Did Potter _try_ to give him a heart attack? Surely Dursley would …

Well, maybe he wouldn't. But if he wouldn't …

_**Darkmaster**__: When was the last time you ate something?_

_**justharry**__: listen, I dont wantto talk about this here every evening. I'm here to forget about it for a bit_

_**Darkmaster**__: Quite understandable. And now, when was the last time you ate something?_

_**justharry**__: why? Just drop it. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I already gave you the answer as to why. A few nights ago. And now, when?_

_**justharry**__: couldn't we just talk abuot something else fora change?_

_**Darkmaster**__: When?_

While he waited for an answer from Potter – quite a few minutes – he again worried about the fact that Potter wasn't even able to write one sentence without mistakes. His writing was quite – well, unacceptable. He had written quickly and without mistakes during the past evenings – aside from when he had been upset. And now – yes, Granger had been right – he was slow with his answers, not only when he stocked in them, but he was slower than usual at all and still he couldn't write more than one sentence without those blasted errors.

Was he just still tired? Was he too hungry to concentrate? How badly injured was the boy after the beating today? Had this blasted uncle of him managed a blow to his already broken ribs? Was something else the matter?

_**justharry**__: friday evening – I guess_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg your pardon?_

_**justharry**__: just readit_

_**Darkmaster**__: I did read it. But you are not serious, are you?_

_**justharry**__: I am_

_**Darkmaster**__: Those are six days!_

_**justharry**__: so what?_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

Snape was furious again. And - again – he was tempted to just go and make a visit at number four Privet Drive. This uncle of Potter was a monster and nothing else. But that _Petunia _wouldn't do anything against it …

_**Darkmaster**__: This is normal to you as well, I take it?_

_**justharry**__: it is normal here. So what? I canT change it, so why do you even care?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Because it is NOT normal. It is cruel and it is inhuman. Your uncle seems to be a monster. And I would like to do nothing else than visiting them._

_**justharry**__: are you crazy?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I mean it, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: as do I. you couldn't do anything … please_

_**Darkmaster**__: I could visit your uncle for example and make sure he treats you acceptable. _

_**justharry**__: guess wohm he would vent his wrath on? _

_**Darkmaster**__: I could make sure that he didn't._

_**justharry**__: you cuoldn'T. you don't know him. You only would stoke his anger._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you do not seem to know who I am, Potter. believe me, I could make sure._

_**justharry**__: just forget it. pLease … It woll be better tomorrow. It isn'T the first time aftera ll_

_**Darkmaster**__: At least go to bed and try to sleep. Your writing gets worse from minute to minute. And that tells me enough._

_**justharry**__: I'll try_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. See that you do. I expect you tomorrow night. I want to know how you are then. And no excuses._

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

For a few minutes he just paced the library in his fury.

The boy hadn't eaten for six days, for Merlin's sake!

And after the boy's comment about sneaking out food, he doubted that _what _he had eaten before had been a healthy meal. Nor that he'd had _much _before either.

Maybe the boy hadn't had anything to eat last week either?

Maybe the boy …

He had to go to Dumbledore.

And he had to go now!

But he just could not leave the lumos-net unsupervised yet incase that Potter came back. He doubted that the boy would be able to sleep just now. And he – at least he hoped – would come back online where he could distract himself. Well, Potter hopefully would try to sleep. And if he went to Dumbledore now, he maybe would be back by the time Potter decided that he could as well go back online if he couldn't sleep.

He would ask Granger to keep an eye on Potter if he came online before he was back.

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user Mione]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Miss Granger?_

_**Mione**__: Darkmaster?_

_**Mione**__: is Harry all right?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Everything is as fine as it can be, Miss Granger. Will you be able to stay here for another hour?_

_**Mione**__: yes, of course. I always am here 'till at least eleven or twelve_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. I want you to stay alert if Potter comes back online in case he feels himself unable to sleep. If he does, then leave him alone unless he addresses you, which he quite might. If he does, then talk to him about the weather or your favorite color, I do not care, as long as you do not mention his current situation towards him. I have an issue to solve that will keep me away for an hour I guess, and I do not want Potter to be alone here until I am back._

_**Mione**__: ok. Where do you go?_

_**Darkmaster**__: That is of no concern to you, Miss Granger._

He did not even bother anymore to keep from speaking like the teacher he was. Right now he did not care if anyone of them found out. As long as they did as he said. And that meant that Granger should keep an eye on Potter if he should come back online and that she did not address him with his current situation. At least until he came back from Albus.

_'Potter_

_I will be away for a few minutes and I will be back around midnight. If you feel unable to sleep, then I expect you to address me. If I am not back by then, then just again try to sleep or wait until I am back. I will be online for the rest of the night as I have a few things to settle anyway so you do not have to fear you would disturb me by addressing me._

_Darkmaster'_

He sent the message and then turned towards the fireplace in his study, flooing to the headmaster's office.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He was more than just upset by the time he came back to his study.

Albus _again _had explicitly forbidden him to take Potter out from his relative's home, had claimed that the wards around the house were still intact and would save him from errand Death Eaters as long as he wouldn't ask for help by himself as at this point the wards would fall anyway.

But who, or what – who or what would keep the boy safe from his relatives?

And again he felt the urge to just go against the headmaster. But Dumbledore had explicitly forbidden it, had even threatened him to sack him if he did. Not literally, of course not, but the meaning of Albus' words had been clear to him nevertheless.

As if he cared right now.

But if he got sacked, then he couldn't help those children anymore. They needed him, all of them.

As did Potter.

Running his hand over his face he went back to his computer. At first he would release Granger from her duty of Potter-watch and then he would think of something.

He snorted.

Potter-watch indeed.

This Potter-watch had become quite a term throughout the years. Some order members were watching the boy's house during the summer holidays and he always had thought how stupid it was from Dumbledore to have one out of three hundred children being watched by the order.

Now he recognized that it wasn't stupid. It was pointless.

None of the order members ever had noticed the abuse Potter went through each summer while they watched.

Granger was still online, just as he had ordered her. Potter however wasn't present.

Not yet at least.

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user Mione]_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am back, Miss Granger._

_**Mione**__: re Darkmaster. And thanks_

_**Darkmaster**__: Now tell me, what exactly do you know about Potter's relatives? You mentioned that, from the short meetings at Kings Cross,_

_**Darkmaster**__: Dursley was not a friendly man. What did you mean by this?_

_**Mione**__: well, he always screams at him, and he grasps him and throws him into the car. And I know that he always sends Hedwig to Ron_

_**Mione**__: during the holidays, because he fears that his uncle would kill her one day_

_**Darkmaster**__: This man would kill an owl? That figures. What did Potter tell you otherwise, Miss Granger? You are his best friend. He must_

_**Darkmaster**__: have told you something._

_**Mione**__: yes, one might think that he would tell us everything. But no, he didn't tell us anything concerning his relatives besides of the fact_

_**Mione**__: that they hated magic and that for hated him. And owls. That he had a lot of work to do, and that he always was glad when he could_

_**Mione**__: come back to Hogwarts. And that he rather was there during Christmas holidays than at home_

_**Darkmaster**__: Did he tell Mr. Weasley something? Anything?_

_**Mione**__: nothing else than he told me. But, I know that Mrs. Weasley always worries about him and gives him more to eat than the rest of us_

_**Mione**__: when he shows up at the burrow at the end of the holidays._

_**Darkmaster**__: Anything else that would be important?_

_**Mione**__: not as far as I know_

_**Mione**__: you are not a student, are you? I rather guess you are a teacher_

_**Darkmaster**__: Loath as I am to admit it, but - clever girl, Miss Granger. What gave me away?_

_**Mione**__: I don't think that this is important, Professor Snape, if I am right. What is more important to me, will you be able to help him? I_

_**Mione**__: mean, I know that you hate him, but you are here and you are talking with him a lot in those private dialogues. And you seem to_

_**Mione**__: care. So I think, I can tell you that last year it was already bad, but not as bad as it seems this year. _

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: You really would trust the dungeon bat to help Potter?_

_**Mione**__: you talk a lot to him, whatever reason for. And you sound as if you care. So, yes, I do think you would help him._

_**Darkmaster**__: Merlin safe me from foolish Gryffindors and their trust! But yes, I will be able to. If he allows me to help him that is._

_**Mione**__: THAT won't be easy. Can't you do anything against his wish?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I could, but I would endanger the wards that are installed around his relatives' house and that keep him safe from remaining_

_**Darkmaster**__: Death Eaters such as Malfoy and Co. I won't wait however much longer, so do not worry._

_[You have a private dialogue from justharry]_

_**justharry**__: Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: can'T sleep_

_**justharry**__: it hrut too much_

_**Darkmaster**__: You really have no chance to get an owl? Or any other way of mail?_

_**justharry**__: no_

_**Darkmaster**__: Then I cannot help you if you do not allow me to visit you. _

_**justharry**__: uncle Vernon wuold kil me_

_**Darkmaster**__: I could protect you from him._

_**justharry**__: just talk to me abit. That willdo_

_**Darkmaster**__: I can do that. But that will not solve your problem. _

_**justharry**__: I know_

_**justharry**__: but it helos_

_**Darkmaster**__: You are injured I take it. You are malnourished, if I should have a guess. And that for you need proper help, including potions. _

_**justharry**__: I knwo that_

_**Darkmaster**__: And still you do not allow me to help you._

_**justharry**__: you wouldn'T help if you visited_

_**Darkmaster**__: I beg to differ, Potter._

_**Darkmaster**__: Listen, Potter. Harry. Your body will go weaker by each day being beaten and having no food._

_**justharry**__: I know_

_**Darkmaster**__: How long, Potter? Harry? How long will you be able to survive those conditions?_

_**justharry**__: *laugh*_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**justharry**__: sOrry_

_**justharry**__: I have surviverd here sinde ten years and after that for three summers. I will survive this one too._

_**justharry**__: just talk to me … pelase? _

_**Darkmaster**__: I will do so, for now. But you should know that I won't watch this forever._

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Chats, foods and Fridays …_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter … thank you …


	10. food and arguments

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_**justharry**__: I have surviverd here sinde ten years and after that for three summers. I will survive this one too._

_**justharry**__: just talk to me … pelase? _

_**Darkmaster**__: I will do so, for now. But you should know that I won't watch this forever._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter ten**

**Food and arguments**

**Friday**

Entering the room of requirement this evening he did so with two thoughts in his mind. The first one was the question how Potter was, and he remembered the conversation with the Gryffindor last night. They had talked until three o'clock in the morning, with the knowledge that Potter had to get up at six to make breakfast for his family. He had known that three hours of sleep surely would not be enough for a thirteen year old teenager that was already exhausted, but at the same time he had known that Potter wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. It was better to distract him from his pain instead of forcing him to try and sleep, causing him to turn over and over in his bed.

The boy had fallen asleep at some time during their conversation, at least that was what he guessed as his answers had come slower and slower until they at one point had stopped at all.

The second thought was the knowledge that Granger knew who stood behind the name of Darkmaster and he wondered if the news had already spread through the room.

What had Darren written?

_'Have fun with it, and as I know you, you will have it … but be careful, they can kick persons out of the room if they so wish. I guess you better do not tell them the fact that you are a teacher.'_

Well, _that_ was too late now, wasn't it?

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 08:14 pm]_

_[Darkmaster gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening … want a cup of tea? … |_|) …_

Lifting his eyebrow Snape noticed the changes and he wondered who had given him op-rights, and why in Merlin's name this one had given them to him in the first place. He had not asked for them.

But well – it might have been Granger. Now, that the girl knew that he was a teacher, she maybe felt that he needed to have those rights.

At the right side of his monitor, beside the window of the conversation in the 'room of requirement' there had another window added itself - the list with the users present in the room and beneath the names he read 'mute' and 'un-mute', 'warn', 'kick' and 'ban', and 'op' and 'de-op'. Well, as it seemed, those were the options he now had within the room.

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening justharry, slythadrian, finnigan01, and Mione_

_**justharry**__: hi too, Darkmaster, and welcome to the taem …_

_**Mione**__: evening, Darkmaster, hope you're well …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, I am fine, Mione. You too, I hope? Whose idea had it been by the way?_

_**slythadrian**__: hi, Darkmaster … congrats, you've managed what no one else had _

_**justharry**__: hwose Idea was what?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do thank you so much, slythadrian. _

_**Darkmaster**__: To give me op-rights, justharry._

_**Mione**__: *looksatfounders* oh … I see … dunno_

_**justharry**__: don' know what you#re speaking of_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: I'm serious, justharry_

_**justharry**__: course you are, Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: I AM a rather serious human being – normally, even if I doubt that lately by myself, since I entered this particular room for the first time._

_**justharry**__: sure, Darkmaster, bechasue you#re showing so much seruousness in this chathere_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, actually I am. And thus I guess I will have to complain in front of the founders about this._

_**justharry**__: in front of the founders ... I'm not really sure if they will accpet the complain ... Darkmaster ..._

Getting up from his chair he went down into the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea. Of course he could have asked Zilly for one, but he needed a minute to think.

Well, as it seemed, it had been Potter who had given him op-rights, but why? Why would Potter give him – a Slytherin – op-rights to their room? Granger, he could have understood, she knew who he was. But Potter? Well, Maybe Granger had told Potter who stood behind the nickname Darkmaster? Why else would he give him open access to his room?

And not to mention that still Potter wrote with too much typing errors for his liking. There even had been a few words he barely had been able to recognize at all and he actually had to guess what exactly Potter had meant. The brat only had had three hours of sleep last night and really, he doubted that he'd had a chance to sleep during the day. He would have had to do his chores – while being hungry, tired and injured.

He wouldn't wait much longer, he promised himself.

Taking a sip of his tea he concentrated back to the room, blinking at Potter's next words.

_**justharry**__: don't pu words into my mouth, ravenboot …_

Well, that didn't sound like Potter. Potter sounded angry, and that was a rare occasion. Scrolling upwards to read what he had missed while he had been away he tried to find out the reason of Potter's angry outburst.

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, actually I am. And thus I guess I will have to complain in front of the founders about this._

_**justharry**__: in front of the founders ... I'm not really sure if they will accpet the complain ... Darkmaster ..._

_**ravenboot**__: hey, that's not fair_

_**ravenboot**__: why did you give Darkmaster op-rights, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: why ever not?_

_**ravenboot**__: because I was in this room here for much longer than him_

_**justharry**__: and you think that's a reaason?_

_**ravenboot**__: maybe not, but he's a Slytherin!_

_**justharry**__: so whyt?_

_**justharry**__: what_

_**justharry**__: Darkmaster is intelligent and he knows what he#s writing. He's ciil to everyone and he's responsible._

_**ravenboot**__: so, you say I'm stupid, justharry? And not civil?_

_**justharry**__: don't pu words into my mouth …_

_**ravenboot**__: I have more than just words in my mouth_

_**justharry**__: uhm … THAT … I really do NOT want to know, ravenboot..._

_**justharry**__: what other poeple already had in their mouths ..._

_**ravenboot**__: I'm sure you won't want to know … _

_**slythadrian**__: why are you telling then, ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: because it's not fair, slythadrian_

_**justharry**__: listen, ravenboot … wom we take intot he team and who gets op-rights is none of your business. It's a decision that lies by Hermions and me and no one else. We have our reasons and we are not oblieged to discuss them with you, accept it or leave it, but stop making a scene because of it. you have no say int his._

_**ravenboot**__: I don't say anything … I'm writing_

_**justharry**__: really, ravenboot ? you're able to write ?_

_**slythadrian**__: yes … but nothing that makes sense …_

_**Mione**__: I do not have to write … I am speaking in here._

_**justharry**__: *g* ... Mione ... I see, laziness is winning ..._

_**slythadrian**__: Mione is throwing such things into the room all the time today._

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... today ? ... )_

_**Mione**__: you're doing it again, justharry …_

_**justharry**__: what?_

_**Mione**__: you're thinking_

_**justharry**__: of course I do, what id you think?_

_[pansy enters the room of requirement at 08:47 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello pansy, nice to see you this evening_

_**slythadrian**__: hi pansy, glad you made it_

_**justharry**__: hello pansy, slythadrian already told us you'D visit_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening, pansy._

_**Mione**__: hi pansy, nice to see you here_

_**pansy**__: uhm … hi all …_

_**Mione**__: nice picture in your profile, pansy_

_**slythadrian**__: yes, but that's you? You look differently, pansy_

_**ravenboot**__: surely it's a fake_

_**Mione**__: no, it's not, it's pansy, just with shorter hair_

_**slythadrian**__: every picture can be a fake, I think_

_**justharry**__: it can ... if you have oen ... slythadrian_

_**slythadrian**__: I refuse to place one into my profile_

_**Mione**__: Earth to Darkmaster … still here?_

_**slythadrian**__: lol … yes, but you do not have one because you're so ugly, justharry …_

_**justharry**__: look who's talking, slythadrian ..._

_**slythadrian**__: the space shuttle is starting_

_**Darkmaster**__: Darkmaster to earth – yes?_

_**slythadrian**__: that's a response :-)_

_**ravenboot**__: today I had roast beef with spaetzle, it's something my mother read about and tried them, they really were great …_

_**Mione**__: sounds strange, ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: justharry: I would suggest you try and eat this one day … honestly, you can need it, you're always a walking stick, I wonder if you have to jump from water jet to water jet during a shower_

_**justharry**__: shall I tell you what I would suggest to you, ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: of course justharry … go ahead_

_**ravenboot**__: justharry?_

_**ravenboot**__: uhm … I'm getting scared if he's writing for such a long time … it will be something nasty then …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just what I thought too._

_**ravenboot**__: :-((((_

_**justharry**__: it is none of your business if I ma a walking stick of if I am awhale, ok? So I guess you better shut ip and keep your opinion to yourself … if you can say nothing good , ythen you sya better nothing at all … that's my oponiton … and to go against opther people just because you don't like theid appearances isn't the best ways to make friends either … _

_**ravenboot**__: ?_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**ravenboot**__: what do you mean, justharry?_

_**ravenboot**__: it only was a joke … sorry you misunderstood my words … _

_**justharry**__: *huff*_

_**ravenboot**__: what? Maybe I should write it in Japanese reverse to you? You misunderstood, that's all. So shut up_

_**justharry**__: Idare doubt that I have misunderstood your words, never ind in which language the've been written … ravenboot … I just don't like it to be didiculend for something that isn't my fault …_

_**justharry**__: and don't tell me to shut up, ravenboot …_

_**Darkmaster**__: I have to agree with justharry, ravenboot. It did not sound as something that could be misunderstood. Your words had been quite clear and they had been offending._

_**Darkmaster**__: And now stop this annoying quarrelling, the both of you. You better drink a glass of !coke. I won't give out mead here._

_**founders**__: here, take a coke, directly from the fridge … |_| … nice and cool ..._

_**ravenboot**__: what? justharry just got this the wrong way ^^_

_**justharry**__ snorts_

_**pansy**__: I don't drink wine_

_**slythadrian**__: mead is no wine, pansy._

_**justharry**__: mead ... the drink of the heroes and the dead men walking_

_**pansy**__: and you are what, justharry? the hero or the dead man walking?_

_**justharry**__: the second one of course, pansy_

_**slythadrian**__: morituri te salutant_

_**justharry**__: yesssss, slythadrian ... and you best relish it hot ..._

_**Mione**__: hello back … what's happening here … what have I missed?_

_**ravenboot**__: - is getting into trouble with justharry every evening :-))_

_**Darkmaster**__: only today, ravenboot, if I get this right, and it is your own fault_

_**ravenboot**__: we can install here a turning wheel just like in circus _

_**justharry**__: and then, ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: well, then you can fix people there and throw knives at them_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... so it will be ravenboot's place ... )_

_**pansy**__: is blowing the nose_

_**ravenboot**__: grrrr_

_**ravenboot**__: justharry: is making terror … again^^_

_**Darkmaster**__: I actually feel tempted to try and use some of those funny little buttons I have here._

_**justharry**__: uargh … plaese not into your t-Shirt ... don't you have a cleenex, pansy ?_

_**slythadrian**__: lool_

_**justharry**__: ^.~ terror, ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: O.O_

_**pansy**__: well, a shirt with green dots … you want to have it, justharry?_

_**justharry**__: surely npt, pansy ... I prefer my shirts plane black ..._

_**ravenboot**__: black is making you pale :-(((_

_**justharry**__: so what, ravenboot ?_

_**justharry**__: better pale than no collour at all_

_**ravenboot**__: you don't mind? justharry_

_**justharry**__: what, ravenboot ?_

_**ravenboot**__: if people ask you all day long „are you ill?" :-D_

_**ravenboot**__: "don't you feel well?"_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do YOU not feel well, ravenboot?_

_**ravenboot**__: not really^^_

_**ravenboot**__: I'm hungry_

_**justharry**__ .oO( ... what a great idea ... )_

_**ravenboot**__: I'm thinking …_

_**justharry**__: .oO( … )_

_**ravenboot**__: chicken nuggets with corn salad_

_**justharry**__: toast with fried eggs …_

_**ravenboot**__: sounds good_

_**justharry**__: mine!_

_**ravenboot**__: *takes a piece of toast from justharry *_

_**ravenboot**__: the staff of life ... you know_

_**justharry**__ pushes ravenboot's fingers away_

_**ravenboot**__: Matthäus 32:4,2_

_**ravenboot**__: hey, that hurt …_

_**justharry**__: Bidwell 41:12,9_

_**Darkmaster**__: It was your own fault, ravenboot._

_**ravenboot**__: just wanted a piece if bread. justharry didn't have to push me_

_**justharry**__: ^.~_

_**ravenboot**__: but that's ok, no one is allowed to make terror – aside from Potter, because he is the owner of the room of course_

_[user ravenboot is kicked from the room by Darkmaster at 09:17]_

_**justharry**__: I'm tired … nithg to all of you …_

Opening a private dialogue before Potter could leave at all Snape clicked at the button and then sighed.

Well, it wasn't really late, but honestly, he could understand why Potter felt the need to leave. Boot really had acted like a dunderhead tonight and he actually wondered why Potter had not warned him. With a smirk he thought that it actually had felt good to kick him out of the room and with a frown he noticed that – well, it had felt good to defend Potter. That surely wasn't normal, was it?

But honestly, that comment about the shower had been uncalled for, even if he had to agree with the boy. Potter indeed always did look as if he had to jump from water jet to water jet during a shower whenever he came back from his summer holidays. But nevertheless it had been uncalled for and knowing the reason behind Potter's starved appearance, knowing that he indeed _was_ starved at his relatives during the summer didn't make it any better. Of course Boot couldn't know this, but it nevertheless had been simply uncalled for.

What concerned him however more was the fact that Potter's typing errors had been as bad as the night before. If not worse!

_[you have opened a private dialogue to the user justharry]_

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you really tired, Potter, or are you rather trying to avoid Boot?_

_**justharry**__: actually I AM tired. but I indeedare just trying to acoid boot, he's a git today. I wouldn't be able to sleep right now anyway_

_**Darkmaster**__: Alright, so – how are you, Potter?_

_**justharry**__: do I really have to answer sthat?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Did you get something to eat today?_

_**justharry**__: as my aunt will laeve tomorrow for the weekend, yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**Darkmaster**__: Where is she going to go?_

_**justharry**__: she visits my uncle#s sistre on saturdaysand sundays_

_**Darkmaster**__: Let me guess – she gives you something to eat before she leaves so you won't die during her absence._

_**justharry**__: somehting along that line, I gues, yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: What has it been you ate?_

_**justharry**__: is it important? I had something and that#S enough, isn't it?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Your words are not setting me at ease, Potter. What have you eaten?_

_**justharry**__: just forget it, it really isn#t Improtant. I had something_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just answer the question._

Of course there was a pause, how should it has been otherwise?

_**justharry**__: it hadn't been raostbeaf with spaetzle, whatever it is_

_**Darkmaster**__: Very funny, Potter._

_**Darkmaster**__: I thought as much. So, what HAS it been?_

_**justharry**__: why would yuo want to know?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Because I am THAT curious, Potter! Ever thought about the possibility that there are people who worry about you?_

_**justharry**__: just forgetit!_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, I won't forget it. _

_**justharry**__: Why? I had somthing!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Then you can tell me what it has been._

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__: damn!_

_**justharry**__: it#s noe of yor busness!_

_**Darkmaster**__: No, it is not, you are right. So, what has it been?_

_**justharry**__: you won#T stop, will you?_

_**Darkmaster**__: No._

_**justharry**__: *sigh* … a slice of btead … fi you must know_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Darkmaster**__: With what?_

_**justharry**__: with nothing_

_**justharry**__: so what?_

_**Darkmaster**__: So nothing. You do not have to defend yourself here, Potter. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I do not ridicule you, I just try to judge your chances of survival._

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**justharry**__: listen, it's just abuot eight weeks more. I'll survive them. I alawys do._

_**Darkmaster**__: And you say I have a strange humour. _

_**Darkmaster**__: I guess your uncle won't give you something to eat while your aunt is away._

_**Darkmaster**__: But I do hope that the woman will give you something to eat when she comes back again?_

_**justharry**__: you're dreaming, aren'tyou?_

_**justharry**__: she doesn't like aunt marge and she'll be too busy conplaining about her the mometn she comes back-_

_**Darkmaster**__: Will your uncle be easier while your aunt is gone?_

_**justharry**__: no, not really_

_**Darkmaster**__: So he will be worse?_

_**Darkmaster**__: And don't lie to me._

_**justharry**__: *sigh*_

_**justharry**__: a syou won't sto asking … yes, he will_

_**Darkmaster**__: How worse?_

_**justharry**__: just forget it_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just answer._

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__: just forget it_

_**justharry**__: please_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just – answer – the question!_

_**justharry**__: listen, Darkmaster, it's friday, it's the alst day Ihave a bit of freedom before the wekend and I really don't want to spaek_

_**justharry**__: about it now. I most likely won't be able to come online tomororw and I don#T want to spend tonight woth discussing what _

_**justharry**__: will happen and wat won#T happenm_

_**Darkmaster**__: What do you mean, you won't be able to come online tomorrow?_

_**justharry**__: just what I said. I pronably will be too tired to come onliem_

_**Darkmaster**__: You haven't been online Saturday last week either. I never asked you what reason for. So I do now – why?_

_**justharry**__: I just was too tire … and Isurvived it , I#m still here_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

_**justharry**__: sorry_

_**Darkmaster**__: You do not make it any easier for me, Potter. _

_**justharry**__: youre not making it easy for me either_

He just _had_ to take a minute! Potter was driving him mad!

It wouldn't be that bad, if he wouldn't be as worried as he actually was.

A slice of bread! Potter had gotten just a slice of dry bread and nothing else!

He could understand that the boy felt embarrassed about telling him this, but honestly, he was more worried about Potter's condition than about his embarrassment. This situation had nothing to do with pride anymore.

And he could understand that Potter simply was scared, they all were. But if the boy just trusted him. This situation _could_ already be solved if the boy just trusted him! But he didn't trust him and with a keyboard and a monitor between them, he was running out of arguments.

_**Darkmaster**__: Well, now you listen to me, Potter. You have two choices._

_**Darkmaster**__: You either will tell me how worse this man will be while your aunt is not present, or you will have to face my visit right now._

_**justharry**__: no!_

_**justharry**__: yuo can#T do htis!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Actually, I can, and I will._

_**justharry**__: no_

_**Darkmaster**__: Try me, Potter!_

_**justharry**__: plaese_

_**Darkmaster**__: I do know that you are scared, that you fear it will make your situation only worse, Potter, and I do understand your fears._

_**Darkmaster**__: But at the same time I will not jeopardise your health or maybe even your life. I have watched this long enough and I will _

_**Darkmaster**__: not continue watching any longer. The choice is yours, Potter._

_**justharry**__: he won#T kill me_

_**justharry**__: he just will haev me work9ng 'till late night. he'll he angrier adn more short temepred but he won't kil me_

_**Darkmaster**__: How much did you eat lately? And how much did you sleep lately? How much did you work lately? And how often have you _

_**Darkmaster**__: been beaten lately? Your body won't be able to take as much as it would be under ideal circumstances. You need medical _

_**Darkmaster**__: care and you need rest and something to eat! What you won't get there!_

_**justharry**__: you said you won#T come if I tell you _

He actually had to run his hand over his face while sighing with frustration.

He himself had two choices right now. Either going against Dumbledore and risking losing his job – what left his hands bound concerning the other abused children in his house, or doing nothing and just hoping that Potter would be fine.

Trying to think about it rationally, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was used to make such decisions, he had to make them all the time, with his spying, with his Slytherins, with Dumbledore, with the Dark Lord, with the remaining Death Eaters, with …

Potter's body probably was weak and exhausted. He was injured, had broken ribs. He …

_**justharry**__: plaese!_

_**justharry**__: you siad you won#T come if I tlel you _

_**Darkmaster**__: What I already regret._

_**justharry**__: please!_

_**justharry**__: yuo said!_

_**justharry**__: you proniesd!_

_**justharry**__: plaese1_

_**justharry**__: you …_

_**justharry**__: please! _

_**justharry**__: just plaese_

_**Darkmaster**__: Calm down, Potter!_

_**Justharry**__: just pleasw_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter!_

Damn! He could see the boy in his mind's eyes, sitting there and close to breaking down. He could see the boy sitting there and sobbing, and he could see him sitting there, desperate and panicky and close to a heart attack – or at least hyperventilating. He knew all those reactions from his Slytherins the moment he confronted them for the first time. With the only exception that right now he was not present to calm the boy down, that he was not present to get the boy through this panic attack.

A fact that worried him more than he was ready to admit. It might be Potter, but right now it was a simple boy that needed help, that needed help desperately and that needed help right now in this moment.

_**justharry**__: just pleasw_

_**Darkmaster**__: Calm down! Take a deep breath and calm down, Potter! _

_**Darkmaster**__: What is your favourite music?_

_**justharry**__: what?_

Well, if startling the boy with his sudden question would get him out of his panic, then be it. He simply would continue their game of questions and answers if this would do the trick.

_**Darkmaster**__: Your favourite music, Harry. It is a simple question._

_**Darkmaster**__: I have told you mine a few days earlier and now I ask you the same question. What is your favourite music?_

_**justharry**__: I raelly do not have a favuorite music. _

_**Darkmaster**__: Ok, it is your turn, Potter. _

_**justharry**__: Uhm … dunn0 …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just ask a question, Harry._

_**justharry**__: I can#T thinkl of oen_

_**Darkmaster**__: Concentrate, Harry. Just ask, anything would be fine._

_**justharry**__: what … what animkals do you like?_

_**Darkmaster**__: I actually do like owls more than snakes, as startling as that might sound. What is your favourite book?_

_**justharry**__: the ltitle yellow car. I knwo it's a children#S book, but it'S funny and the only one I ever owned_

_**Darkmaster**__: I never heard of it. It's your turn._

_**justharry**__: Will you come?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you want me to come?_

_**justharry**__: no, pleaes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you calm now?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**justharry**__: I am_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**Darkmaster**__: Then you listen to me. And don't get into a panic again. Just listen and don't interrupt._

_**Darkmaster**__: I will respect your wish – for now at least, but under one condition, and one condition ONLY._

_**justharry**__: ok_

_**Darkmaster**__: You will stay online all the time, and you will write a short note tomorrow morning and during the day tomorrow whenever _

_**Darkmaster**__: you have the chance to. You also will write a short note tomorrow night after you have finished your chores and are _

_**Darkmaster**__: released from your uncle. If you are too tired for a conversation, I can understand, but you will at least write a short note _

_**Darkmaster**__: so that I know you are – 'alright'. You also will write a short note to me whenever you have the chance during Sunday and _

_**Darkmaster**__: every other day of the holidays until we have found a different solution or I say else wise. Is that understood?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: And you will do as I told you?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**Darkmaster**__: I want you to promise me one more thing though._

_**justharry**__: yes?_

_**Darkmaster**__: No heroics. I do as you wish, for now, but only as long as I see that you keep me informed – truthfully – about your _

_**Darkmaster**__: condition and as long as you promise that you will inform me immediately if the situation gets worse or if you need help. _

_**Darkmaster**__: And I mean it, Potter. The moment I notice that you lie to me, I will visit Surrey. Did I make myself clear?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**justharry**__: I wil do as you say_

_**justharry**__: I promise_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you calm enough so you can sleep a bit?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. Then do just this. I will be here encase you are not able to, but I want you to try._

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The last Saturday and the last chance._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	11. behind closed doors

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_**justharry**__: I promise_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good._

_**Darkmaster**__: Are you calm enough so you can sleep a bit?_

_**justharry**__: yes_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good. Then do just this. I will be here encase you are not able to, but I want you to try._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter eleven  
**

**Behind closed doors**

**Saturday**

Snape didn't even bother entering the room of requirement this evening, and neither did he dare to leave his library for longer than a few minutes in a row, and only if it was absolutely necessary.

He knew he was being stupid, he had placed several charms on his computer and he would be alerted the moment Potter wrote anything at all, never mind where he was in the manor. He would be alerted if he were in the kitchen as well as if he were in the library. And nevertheless, he simply couldn't bring himself to leave, knowing that the abuse Potter went through would be worse today than normally.

He might admit it to himself or not – he simply worried.

So he had stayed up in the library most of the day today.

Even Zilly had gone worried over him, had come in several times to ask if he was alright, if he needed anything, and each time he had snapped at the house elf, secretly welcoming the gesture and Zilly had left, a relieved and knowing smile on his wrinkled face. Of course the blasted elf knew him well enough to _not_ being bothered by his growling, to _know_ that he secretly liked the small creature a lot. Zilly probably would have died of worrying over him if he had _not_ snapped at him.

Of course he didn't always snap at the elf. In the contrary. He quite often had rather normal conversations with him, never mind what bothered him, or what was on his mind else wise and he quite often required the elf's opinion in some things. He didn't even consider Zilly as a servant at all, hadn't done so in a long time now, and Zilly often got really annoyed at him whenever he found him in the kitchen – in _his_ kitchen, mind you – preparing something to eat for himself.

Not that that had happened a lot lately, another point Zilly had started to worry about. That he hadn't eaten much since two days. But somehow, knowing that there was a student of him – and never mind if Potter was in his house or not, he still _was_ a student of him – that had noting to eat for days, and he couldn't do a thing about it, everything seemed to taste like dust somehow.

Potter – that boy was the one reason he right now was sitting in the library, writing on his work for 'Potions Monthly' to distract himself while he waited for the boy's next message – that was _overdue_, he noticed not for the first time.

He had gotten a few messages over the day, just like Potter had promised.

The first one in the morning, at six, and he had cursed the moment his alarms had gone off, waking him from a much needed sleep. He hadn't slept that well lately, knowing about the horrors that were Potter's home life while not being able to do anything about it, and the moment his alarm had gone off he hastily had made his way to the library, already fearing the worst, to find an _'I#m up, makiny breakfast for ym uncle, I#M tired but alright, I#ll report to yu later' _in his private dialogue window.

At six!

Well, he knew that Potter probably hadn't had any choice in the time he had to get up, and that he probably was just too worried about him visiting that he had sent the message to ensure him – he was alright – what he surely was _not_. That there was no need for him to come and visit – what surely was a blatant lie, he knew it. He should have visited days ago.

However, he had stayed awake since then, not daring to go back to sleep.

He had gotten more messages throughout the day. Short ones, just a few words – that had been laced with typing errors – and none of them had been written in a way of conversation, understandable. He had always answered with a short remark, not even knowing why he did. He probably just wanted the boy to read a few reassuring words the moment he was back on the computer to write his next message.

The last message he had gotten had been a short _'haven#T much tiem, 'M ok'_ shortly after eight pm and since then there had been nothing more. And it was nearly eleven now.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He didn't know what time it was, and honestly, he didn't care, it wasn't important anyway.

He knew that he had to send a message to the Darkmaster, but he didn't care about that either, he just wasn't able doing so.

He knew that something was terribly wrong, but he couldn't change that right now, so it wasn't important either.

_What_ he knew that was important was – that he had to get away, and quickly, but that for, number two should be possible, namely sending a message to the Darkmaster – what wasn't possible as he was in no condition to even move to the corner where he had his laptop under the invisibility cloak, still running.

He knew, he just had to get there and he just would have to hit one single word, or at least one single type, and then 'enter'. He was sure the Darkmaster would know what it meant and then he would come.

On the other hand – did he have the right to endanger the Darkmaster's life too? Would the Darkmaster be able to go against his uncle and his friends – who surely would arrive at Privet Drive soon? The Darkmaster wasn't an underage wizard anymore. He'd said he was seventeen. He could use magic during the holidays. And he was a Slytherin. Slytherins weren't stupid and always found ways. So he probably would be able to.

But would he even come? Would he really do as he had said and come if he asked for help? He had promised. And, even if he didn't know why, he trusted the Darkmaster. He hadn't really trusted someone since a long time, and he didn't even know who exactly the Darkmaster was. But he trusted him, as strangely as it might sound.

And right now uncle Vernon was downstairs, waiting for his friends to arrive. So – _if_ there was a chance to ask for help, then it was right now. Now, while he was alone in his room. Now, while his uncle was downstairs, and now, before his uncle's friends were here. It was now – or never.

Gathering his last strength and gritting his teeth against the pain he felt while moving he slowly crawled towards the corner where the desk stood, the desk under which his laptop was, underneath the invisibility cloak. He just had to reach this corner, he just had to lift the cloak, and then he could send the message.

He nearly cried with relief the moment he actually _had _made it and for a few moments he just lay there, panting, trembling, nearly sobbing, before he finally pulled the invisibility cloak from the laptop. He didn't care that he wouldn't be able to put it back again, to hide the laptop again. If his uncle found it – well, then be it. He wouldn't be able to use it again after tonight anyway, he wouldn't survive the night anyway, he knew. So there was no need to be careful anymore. There was no need to hide the laptop again after using it now. He just had to do it, or his only chance of getting help was undone.

It seemed to be an impossible task, reaching out his hand, and he knew he wouldn't be able to really write a sentence. He wasn't even sure if he would manage to write the word help, but he was sure it wouldn't matter. The Darkmaster would know what he meant and he would come.

He winced, the moment the word was visible on the screen, but he didn't care.

_**justharry**__: hekp#+_

Well, the Darkmaster had seen other typing errors from him, and he always had taken them as what they were, he never had reprimanded him for them.

Of course he had tried to correct them before sending his messages – if he found them. But without his glasses, well, he was glad that he was able to read what the Darkmaster wrote at all, and to find all of his own mistakes before sending the messages – it wasn't as easy as it sounded. And honestly, right now, he didn't care.

He would die tonight, his uncle would kill him tonight, he knew it. So – what mattered a few typing errors?

Placing his head on his arm he lay down and tried to decipher the sentences the Darkmaster had written him over the day. They were not much, just short answers to his messages, but for him, right now they meant the world. They meant that he still was alive, that he wasn't dead yet. He still was able to read them. They were something he right now could grasp at, like a drowning man to a straw. They gave him the knowledge that there was someone out there who knew what happened right now.

Not exactly, of course not. He never had told the Darkmaster what exactly happened on the weekends when aunt Petunia wasn't here. Not that he had known that his uncle would get friends over tonight, even if he could have guessed, even if it wouldn't be the first time. But that – well … there just was someone out there who knew that _something_ happened … there was someone who thought about him …

_**Darkmaster**__: Don't get into too much trouble with your uncle._

… not that he could avoid it … but it was nice that there was someone who worried … it was nice to know there was someone who was ready to help …

_**Darkmaster**__: Just tell me if you need help._

… it was nice that there was someone who knew that something happened … it was nice to know that there was someone who would know why he had died … that he had died in the first place …

_**Darkmaster**__: You are overdue with your next message, Potter._

… that had been the last message from the Darkmaster … it was nice to know that the Slytherin worried … a Slytherin of all people … that he actually didn't just answer his messages … that he actually _waited _for them … just as he had promised … just like a friend …

He concentrated to keep his focus on that last message he had gotten from his unknown friend, but somehow his eyelids dropped. A bit at first, before he quickly reopened them, blinked and tried to focus onto the Darkmaster's last words again, but then they dropped again and he simply couldn't reopen them while he lost consciousness.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

It was half past eleven now and still he had not read from Potter again.

He didn't know what was happening over there at Privet Drive right now, but he knew that the boy normally entered the 'room of requirement' between half past eight and ten. And now it was half past eleven. Well, ok - last Saturday Potter had not entered at all, had sent him a message much later. It had been around half past one, and maybe he should wait until …

No – he simply couldn't wait any longer right now … he simply had to go … he felt the need to so something, never mind Dumbledore and surely never mind Potter. He _knew_ that there was something wrong.

Well, not necessarily, he knew. He knew – a worrying person, and that applied to him right now, often overreacted, thinking something had happened when there hadn't. And maybe, most probably, he would arrive at Privet Drive only to find that nothing – _out of the order_ – had happened, that the boy might be …

Well, alone _that_ was reason enough. That the boy might – _only_ – be beaten up by his uncle again, it was enough. _He_ had enough. He wouldn't wait any longer and he wouldn't listen to Potter's reassurances or Dumbledore's restrictions any longer.

Getting to his feet and grabbing his cloak he left the library, went downstairs and hastily strode through the entrance hallway, opened the main door to his manor and stepped outside. He quickly crossed the grounds, his mind up, and after arriving at the apparition point he vanished with a soft 'pop'.

He missed the message that appeared half a second later on his monitor, the message of a boy he had disliked for years, of the boy he now worried for without knowing what it meant, what the meaning behind worrying for someone that much was.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The street of Privet Drive was dark and silent. A few moths danced around the dimly lit streetlamps, a few crickets chirred in the nearby grass of the gardens around the street and a small kitten sat on a garden wall, licking its paws. Everything seemed to be absolutely normal, and to any onlooker it _surely_ _would_, if no one dared to look behind closed doors.

Of course, what happened behind closed doors was private, and that for no one _did_ look behind closed door.

It wasn't important if behind closed doors a child was neglected. It wasn't the neighbors' business if behind closed doors a child was beaten. And if the next door woman starved her nephew behind closed doors, well, it was behind closed doors and that for not the other person's concern. And if behind closed doors a child was raped by his uncle, well, it was behind closed doors, and that for it was private.

And so – everything was just normal at number four Privet Drive, just as it should be.

The only thing that was not normal – was the soft 'pop' that disturbed the nightly silence, that caused the kitten to run with a nervously erect tail across the street and even the crickets stopped chirring for a few moments.

The man that appeared, accompanying the soft 'pop', was barely seen as he was dressed completely in black. But if anyone looked closer, he would have seen something that was absolutely _not_ normal, for the man was dressed in a long black traveling cloak over black trousers and a black shirt. Long black hair fell into a pale face with black eyes that burned fiercely and furiously, and the man hurried over to number four, towards the Dursley's house.

He didn't bother knocking at the door but drew something from his sleeve and pointed it towards the lock of the front door. It was a slender black stick, and suddenly the front door clicked and the man quietly shoved it open, silently slid into the house.

Wouldn't the muggles be so ignorant, would they have cared, then they would have known that the black stick was a wand, and that the dark man clad in black was a wizard that was on his way to rescue the child that lived there, behind closed doors. If they were not so ignorant, then they would have known that there was child that had been neglected, that had been beaten and starved, and that had been raped, behind closed doors.

But they _were_ ignorant, all of them. They never had looked behind those closed doors, because it was rude to look behind closed doors. What happened behind closed doors was not their business. It wasn't important that maybe, just maybe, if they _had_ looked, they would have been able to prevent the child that lived here, behind those closed doors, from dying.

Well, in this case, it _really_ wasn't important, not anymore, because this child did not need the neighbors – not anymore at least – the Darkmaster was here to rescue the child. But what of all the other children that lived behind closed doors? If there was one child that lived behind closed doors and was starved and beaten and raped behind closed doors – then how much other children lived behind closed doors and suffered the same fate as this one child? And did they all have a dark wizard to rescue them?

Maybe not.

Maybe a lot of such children actually died behind closed doors because they lived behind closed doors behind which no one dared to look because it was rude to look behind them? Hadn't there been a report on the news, just last week, that there had been a four year old girl that had been found in the garbage bin because her mother had neglected her, had starved her to death, behind closed doors? Oh, and the report last month on the newspaper. There had been a seven year old boy that had been beaten to death by his father, behind closed doors.

The poor child! But all those tragedies were just so far away. And behind closed doors. It didn't concern _them_.

No one had cared. No one had looked. And no dark wizard had come.

It really was a good thing that at least here, behind _those _closed doors a dark wizard was coming for the beaten and starved child, otherwise Harry Potter probably would have died this night too, behind closed doors.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Silently the Potions Master made his way upstairs.

In most houses the bedrooms were upstairs and he didn't even bother looking on the ground floor. He quickly went upstairs, silently, and his dark eyes scanned the doors there until they fell onto the one with a lot of locks, bars, padlocks and other security devices, and he immediately knew that this door would be the right one. He had not seen the boy's window, as it didn't face the street, but there was no need for such. He knew that the child's window was barred. Potter had told him. Well, he had told the Darkmaster, but that didn't make such of a difference, now, did it?

And if the boy's window was barred, then it only was logically that the boy's door was barred too. He just wondered what else they kept in this room, as he only could imagine a wild beast being secured in a room like this. Did the Dursleys fear Potter that much? He snorted for a moment and with a quiet 'alohomora' the padlocks and the bolts snapped open.

He silently shoved the door open and entered.

It was, despite to the cool summer night, hot and stifling in the sparsely furnished room, but nevertheless he could see the small figure laying under the table shivering from cold and quickly he hasted over to the corner in which the teen lay, cursing under his breath when he dropped to one knee beside the boy he had been conversing with since nearly two weeks now.

The boy wore nothing and he clearly could see all the damage that had been done to the fragile body, a body so fragile he for a moment wondered how he could get the child away from here without breaking the thin form and he cursed again, before he regained his ever present professionalism and gently placed his hand on the boy's bruised shoulder, turned the beaten body onto its back.

Potter didn't wake, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. As long as the teen was unconscious, he wouldn't feel the pain, but he needed the boy awake to give him some potions. He knew that something was wrong. Something aside from the bruises, the burnings and the cuts that covered most of the bare skin, something aside from the broken bones and something aside from the fact that the boy was naked, what told him enough, what told him that most likely the boy had been raped.

He knew that there was something else that was wrong, he could feel that there was something missing. And he prayed that he was wrong, because _if_ he was right, then the child barely would have chance to survive, then he would not live long enough to see adulthood. But as much as he tried to reach out with his own magic, he couldn't find Potter's magical signature.

Maybe there might be a small part left, maybe there was a small chance, but he simply didn't have the time to really search for it properly right now. Potter was still breathing, but barely and he placed his left hand onto the boy's chest, just above his heart, while closing his eyes and concentrating on matching the teen's heartbeat to his own.

Meanwhile, his other hand was running his wand up and down the boy's thin body, running diagnostics over diagnostics and he frowned when he saw them. The undernourishment and the dehydration, the exhaustion and sleep deprivation alone would have kept the boy ill, but the amount of broken bones, all the cuts, the bruises and the burnings added to this, it was a miracle the boy still lived. It was another miracle that his broken ribs hadn't pierced his lungs, though how that had been managed, Snape wasn't entirely sure.

Had his magic kept him alive until now? Didn't he feel the boy's magic because of this? Had the boy's magic drained because it had kept him alive until he had come? Until now? Perhaps. It was possible. And it would be an explanation.

Quickly he took his cloak from his shoulders and threw it over the still shivering form and carefully he lifted Potter's upper body until he had the boy in a nearly sitting position in his arms, the boy's bloody back leaning against his chest, before he tried to awaken the child. He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt, but right now he didn't mind and he again cursed under his breath when he needed more than one attempt to get the boy awake.

"Come on, Potter." He growled, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Just wake up! I won't have you sleeping in my class. You will find yourself in detention with me if you don't wake up right now! That's better." He added more gently when the boy finally did stir in his arms and he tightened his grip on the teen, knowing what his next reaction would be.

Harry woke slowly, not really sure what had gotten him awake.

It was a voice he knew – at least he should. A soft, dark and silky voice, and he _knew _that he should know this voice. He just couldn't place it. He couldn't place a face to the voice. What confused him however more was that he was leaning against something solid, something that felt strangely like the frame of a slender but strong person, definitely an adult, and most probably a man.

But that made no sense.

Uncle Vernon surely was as far away from being slender as was an elephant from being as small as a mouse. For a moment the question how something as big as an elephant could be afraid of something as small as a mouse crossed his mind, but it was gone without an answer and as quickly as it had come, and he noticed that he was in just too much pain to really care about such a stupid question right now in the first place.

Not to mention that uncle Vernon surely wouldn't hold him as gently as this man was doing. Whoever it was.

His thoughts, whatever they had been, were confirmed the moment a soft and soothing voice spoke to him, telling him he had to stay awake, as the voice matched perfectly with a deep rumbling and vibrating that came from behind him and coursed through his body.

"M'wake." He murmured blearily.

How long had he been asleep? Was it really already morning? Uncle Vernon was going to be so mad when he came in and saw him laying around lazyly. A thought, at which he desperately tried to get up. He wasn't lazy … wasn't bad … he was good … he didn't need uncle Vernon to punish him for …

"Stop that!" The voice commanded sharply, and Harry recoiled as though struck and it hit him full force. Uncle Vernon. It was Saturday.

Aunt Petunia wasn't here. And uncle Vernon had said …

It must be one of the friends uncle Vernon said he would invite …

And …

"Stop that, Potter!" The voice continued on, softer now. "You're going to hurt yourself. I need you to stay still, awake and try to drink some potions for me."

No!

It couldn't be!

He knew this game!

His uncle had played this game sometimes, when he had been younger. He hadn't played this game since a long time now, since at least two years, but his throat still hurt from it whenever he tried to drink something that was sour or when he ate something hot or warm. He always let his food going cold before eating it. And now uncle Vernon must have told his friends and they …

But he wouldn't hold still this time. He remembered that he'd always had to sit still, no matter how much it had hurt, and he remembered that this had been the worst part of it, to sit still while he wanted to scream and to run and to squirm and to kick and to … but he wouldn't sit still this time. He wouldn't allow … he would …

"None of that now, child." The voice reprimanded gently. "I promise you, I won't harm you. I promise you, it is nothing that will hurt you, just some potions. They might taste bad but they won't hurt you. They will help."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Snape tightened the grip he had on the boy who desperately struggled to get away from him and he had to keep himself from cursing under his breath, knowing that he hurt the boy just the more with his harsh grip as there wasn't a part of the child's body that wasn't injured.

"Calm down, Harry." He said, forcing himself to sound calm and soothing. "Everything is all right. You are safe, I am here and nothing can harm you, no one can harm you. I am here. You are alright. You are fine. Everything is fine."

It didn't take long until the boy's strength was drawn and he simply slumped in his grip, unable to fight any longer. He still kept a careful but strong grip on the boy, though, finally managing to pour a few different potions down the child's throat. A healing potion, a pain reliever and a calming draught.

For a moment his eyes fell onto the monitor of the laptop that was visible on the floor under the table, the laptop the child had been laying in front of, and his face, as grim as it was, tightened even.

_**justharry**__: hekp#+_

He read. So - at least the child had kept his promise and had asked for help once in his life. He forced his eyes away from the monitor and those words and he just then gathered the much too small Gryffindor into his arms – and without another thought he activated his emergency portkey that would transport him to his manor.

Potter was badly injured, but his spine was alright, as was his neck. Bruised, but the boy could be moved. The healing potion would take care of his injured organs and he could deal with anything else later, after he had brought the boy to safety, away from Privet Drive, away from his uncle.

The moment he landed on the soft rug in his study at Snape Manor, Potter still in his arms, he looked down at the meanwhile limp form and noticed that the boy had lost consciousness again.

He didn't hesitate for a moment and made his way to the door, carrying the small body through the corridor and up a flight of stairs, into one of his guest chambers. Zilly came along and accompanied him, his wrinkled face worried at first, then relieved after seeing him, before it got worried again after seeing the still body in his arms.

Well, it wasn't the first time that he used the emergency portkey to land in his study and normally he only had used it after a meeting with the Dark Lord, when he had been in mortal danger. So it wasn't the first time that Zilly was notified after the device was activated and the house elf surely had been worried to death about his well-being this time after the portkey had alerted him.

The only other person who was …

"No!"

Gazing down at the child Snape noticed that Potter had woken up the moment he had tried to place him onto the bed and was now clinging to him like to a lifeline.

"Hush, Potter." The Potions Master lifted the boy back into his arms, pulled the fragile frame close while his arms betrayed his cold appearance, and wrapped themselves around the frail child he suddenly felt he had to protect. As it seemed, there never had been someone who had been ready to protect that child and – without being able to explain it – he felt that he seemed to be the only adult in this child's life that was able to do so properly right now.

The Dursleys had failed him. He huffed. Of course they had. They had been the ones who had caused all that damage on the child.

Dumbledore had failed him, always only seeing the weapon in the boy. Lupin had failed him, the wolf should have been there after Black's death. Every single professor at Hogwarts had failed him, and even he, Snape, had failed him. Even the Weasleys had failed him. None of them had bothered to look behind the child's mask. None of them had been ready to actually do something to …

Well – it would stop.

And it would stop here and now, he promised.

Severus had always taken his responsibility to protect his students seriously – _all _of his students and that included Potter and honestly, aside from a good smack upside the head, he had never wished any harm to befall the Gryffindor. Neglect and abuse, however, not to mention to such an extent, he never had wished for the child, nor had he expected that it was _that _bad. A few bruises and cuts, a broken rib like Potter had said. He even accepted that the boy had went hungry and starved. But all of that to such an extend?

Neglect and child abuse could condemn a child and he refused to let Potter go down that road. The boy would know how it felt to be cared for, he promised. He did not kid himself though. He was a harsh man and set in his ways. But he would try. He didn't know if Potter would be ready to accept him in his life, if he would be able to trust him enough to have him in his life, but he would try. He didn't know if Potter would accept him as a constant adult in his life – as long as he lived that was, but he would try.

That boy had been through enough and he wouldn't allow more harm befalling him. The boy's life would be short enough, he feared. But as long as the boy lived, he would try.

He managed to pour another potion down the boy's throat while he was in his arms, a sleeping potion this time, and he noticed the small wince that crossed the boy's face. It wasn't a wince that had been caused from discomfort at the potion's taste, it was a wince that definitely was caused by pain and he stored that information in his mind for a later point.

A low growl escaped his throat at the thought of the Dursleys, startling and frightening the child he still held in his arms and Potter immediately struggled to break free from his arms, another "no" escaping the boy, a much quieter one this time.

Cursing only in his mind Snape again tightened his grip on the teenager that only would fall to the floor on the other side of the bed the moment he would struggle free.

"Hush, child. It's the Darkmaster." Snape whispered, trying to keep his voice soft and gentle. "Relax, child. You are safe. You are away from Privet Drive. You are safe."

It worked at least long enough for him to shove the bed against the nearby wall so the boy wouldn't fall off in his fits before he was able to finally place the child atop the bed and immediately Harry twisted away from him and curled into a small ball, his back pressed against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest.

"No." The child desperately whispered again, wrapping his thin arms around himself in an act of self protection.

"Easy, Potter." Snape said, taking the small jar Zilly wordlessly reached towards him and sitting onto the edge of the mattress, reaching his hand towards the boy. It wasn't a sight he ever wanted to see in his life and surely not from a child. "It's the Darkmaster. I need to have a closer look at your injuries so I can tend to them."

"No." The child curled in on himself even tighter, pressing his eyes shut.

"Hush, child." Snape whispered, gently pulling the boy's feet downwards. "I need you to uncurl for a moment. I need to tend for your injuries for a moment." Slowly he released the boy's legs and grabbed the painfully thin arms and gently pulled them away from the frail torso he had wrapped them around while he at the same time cast a warming charm.

During his struggles the cloak he'd had wrapped around the child had been landing in a heap on the floor and the small and thin body that was Potter definitely was freezing, he was shivering and goose bumps covered the few areas where was enough skin for such a thing like goose bumps, while his lips nearly seemed to have a blue tinge.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he managed to coax the boy out of his tension until the child lay flat on his back, still trembling, but the Potions Master was sure that this time it wasn't from the cold but from the pain and fear.

"Hush, child." He repeated. "I know you are scared, and I won't hold it against you. Just calm down, you are safe now. I won't harm you. I only want to help. I have promised to help you and I will do so. Just calm down, you are safe. You are at my manor and no one can touch you here."

Slowly he extended his hand, his fingers coated with the salve and applied it to the worst cuts on the boy's chest, wondering why in Merlin's name the sleeping draught didn't work with Potter. Leave it to _that_ particular child to go against all rules again. The sleeping draught should have worked and the boy should be asleep by now. What he wasn't.

The boy flinched upon the touch, but then, Snape almost missed it, relaxed when the touch was not bringing the pain of a beating but only the pain that was expected upon being touched on his injuries. He didn't stop talking to the boy though, simply trying to distract him from the pain he caused and even if he wasn't a kind man that normally talked to a child in such a way he noticed that maybe no one ever had talked to the child like that as it seemed to do wonders on the tortured soul. Again his stomach twisted painfully at that thought.

He carefully placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, keeping it there for a moment so the Gryffindor could get used to the touch, before taking a hold on the thin frame and turning the boy over onto his stomach, all the while whispering soothing nonsense to keep Potter as calm as possible.

He continued to apply the salve onto the boy's back, knowing that it would take more than just this one treatment for all the cuts and all the burns and bruises to heal, the skin damage had been just too seriously and he was glad that he was a wizard. In a muggle invironment the boy wouldn't have had a chance of survival with that amount of skin damage and he sighed in relief the moment the boy's breathing evened out and he could see Potter's eyelids closed – either the potion finally having taken hold or exhaustion simply was overwhelming the child.

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He had no idea what to do with the brat now that he had him away from Dursley, but he knew that whatever would happen now, he would not regret his decision.

It had been the right thing to do.

Severus' hand seemed to reach up on its own accord to rest on the back of Potter's head while his murderous thoughts of Vernon Dursley escalated to such a degree that he thought he maybe should turn the man into a house elf and deliver him to any of the remaining Death Eater's households as a birthday present. He surely would find one that had his birthday soon. And honestly, the man would receive nothing else than he deserved at their hands.

That _damn, blasted man_ had _raped_ the boy!

Death definitely would have been too easy a punishment for that bastard and Snape vowed to himself that he would make the monster pay deeply for what he had done to a wizarding child. To Lily's child. He would watch the man suffer just as Potter had suffered.

And the boy had not dared to tell him this.

Would the boy one day being able to really trust him?

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

Would the boy …

If he hadn't ever spied in his life he would have missed it, but he caught the ever so slight hitch of a breath coming from the much too small child laying beside him and knowing what had been the cause for it he forced himself to get a grip on himself. He took another small vial from the nightstand beside the bed, applying some of the potion onto the broken fingers, now knowing _why _the Gryffindor had made so much typing mistakes. Not all of them were broken, but enough so he would have trouble writing.

Well, it would be a long night, he knew. It would be much quicker if he used skele-gro, but at the same time he knew that Potter wouldn't react too well to it. The bones would heal too quickly for the amount of broken bones he actually had sustained and that potion shouldn't be used on broken ribs at all. So this weaker version of the skele-gro potion would have to do the trick and he gently massaged the crystal blue liquid into the small and thin fingers, again wondering how he could touch them without breaking them even more. They were just too fragile and he wondered if they always had been this way. If they had, then he should have seen it during potions while the boy handled his potions ingredients. But he had not seen.

He again turned Potter over onto his back so he could tend to the other broken bones more easily, especially to the teen's broken ribs and continued his work, carefully and slowly, checking the fractures at first, setting the bones before starting to heal them with the potion.

At one point the Potions Master noticed the headmaster that had entered the guest chamber in his manor and was now standing nearby, watching him, silently and he wondered where Dumbledore had kept himself. He had activated the emergency portkey, for Merlin's sake, and the only other person besides of Zilly that was notified over it, was Dumbledore. He had activated the portkey nearly an hour ago and had he really been in mortal danger, then he probably would be dead by now without the headmaster's help.

It didn't take Dumbledore long however until he got impatient and cleared his throat to gain his attention.

"Yes, Albus, I _actually_ do know you that you are here." He growled without looking at the headmaster while he finished applying the bone mending potion to the boy's ankle.

"How is he?" Dumbledore asked without acknowledging his comment.

"He will live, headmaster." Snape quietly hissed, redoing the stopper to the vial and wiping his hands on a towel that was already bloody from the boy's injuries.

"You shouldn't have taken him." The headmaster said and he couldn't help turning at him sharply, his dark eyes furiously upon the older wizard.

"It is enough, Albus!" He growled darkly, taking a step towards the older wizard. "I am a Potions Master. And I hope that I do not have to remind you that as a Potions Master I am a _healer_ as well. And as a healer, I have sworn an _oath_. Namely to never simply watch if someone is in need of medical care. A fact that not only the Dark Lord does _not_ seem to care about, but you as well as it seems."

"The blood wards fell, Severus." The headmaster accused, his eyes disappointed.

"The blood wards!" Snape snorted in disgust. "You knew Petunia was jealous of Lily's gift, and you knew that _that_ jealousy turned to hate after Lily attended Hogwarts. How could you ever assume that she would care for Lily's son? You are exceedingly lucky they had not killed him – although it was damnably close!"

"I never knew for sure that she really would abuse her own nephew." The headmaster said. "I knew that Harry wouldn't be loved by his aunt and uncle. And I knew that he wouldn't be welcomed. But I never knew for sure that he would be abused."

The younger wizard nearly lost it right then.

"You _actually_ claim that you did not know for sure, Dumbledore?" He spat. "How _deep_ are you living with your head buried in your rectal area? Did you not read all the reports Poppy sent to you over the years? And I am sure she did. Potter was in her infirmary often enough since his first year and she takes her duty rather seriously. Did you not see the damage with your own eyes each year that boy came back to Hogwarts after the holidays thinner than any child should be? _That_ even _I _have seen. Are you intentionally trying to be stupid?"

He paused in thought, calming himself down.

"Or …" He suddenly drawled, coming closer a few steps more. "Did you know and you left him there anyway?" He asked, suddenly almost sure that he was right. And apparently he _was _correct as Dumbledore paled at the accusation thrown at him by his Potions Master.

"I am sorry, Severus." The headmaster whispered. "I hope that he will be alright."

Snape snorted at that last sentence.

'_Of course you hope Potter is alright.' _He thought._ 'For if he is not, then you have lost your most important weapon in this war, old man.'_

"I hold you partially responsible for what has happened to Potter at the Dursley's." He growled threateningly, taking another step towards the headmaster until he stood face to face with the older wizard, shoving the bloody towel into Dumbledore's hands and showing him his own hands that still were stained with the teenager's blood before wandlessly cleaning them. "And I tell you now, _headmaster_, I will gain guardianship over that boy. And if you just so much as step one toe out of line again where it concerns Potter, then I will remove him from your school, and you won't be able to find him until I say so. You can look for another Potions Master and a new saviour then."

"Severus, you surely …"

"You should leave, Albus." Snape warned while turning back towards the bed and his ward. "Now!"

He summoned the armchair that stood in one corner of the room over to the bed and sat into the furniture, watching the child he just had claimed for himself, thinking.

He had been ready to help Potter. Yes. He actually had been ready to help Potter days ago, even before he'd had civil conversations with him in those blasted private dialogues, even before he had learned that he actually cared deeply about the blasted Gryffindor. Yes. But Potter had refused his help and his care and his worries had intensified.

Now the situation had gotten out of hands, the boy nearly had died. Damn – the boy actually barely _was_ alive and it wasn't sure how long the boy would survive at all. A few months maybe, a year or two maybe, until he was of age at the best.

But now he was here and he had done something that was absolutely not his normal way of acting. He had claimed the brat as his ward. He had been ready to act as the boy's guardian earlier, but again he wondered – would the boy trust him enough? Could the boy trust anyone enough to form a healthy relationship?

And with him? Snape? The dungeons bastard that had made his life at Hogwarts a living hell? He was no kind man, and he knew it. He was a harsh man. He even was a harsh man if it came to his Slytherins. They trusted him, yes. They trusted him with their lives, knowing that – never mind how harsh he was, he was fair and he would help them, always and never mind what. They knew that he would protect them with his own life, even from their own parents if necessary. But they were his Slytherins. Potter wasn't one of his Slytherins. Potter didn't know him, Potter didn't know how to handle his harshness, what to make of it, how to understand it.

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

There were a lot of his Slytherins that were abused at home and he always was there for them. They never admitted it freely to him at first, but he always managed to get them into the direction he wanted them until they knocked at his door with terrified looks on their faces, asking for help. And that was what was keeping him up right now, what was keeping him from sleeping right now. Potter should have been one of them. Potter should have been in his house. Potter should have been one of those children, one of those first years, knocking at his door with a terrified look on his face and asking for his help. Potter should have been his.

He didn't know how long he stayed there watching the boy's chest rising and falling, but when his house elf came in again to bring him a cup of strong and black coffee he noticed that his hand traitorously had sneaked its way towards the child's head, his fingers carding through the unhealthy strands of hair of a boy called justharry.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_How will Harry react upon his first awakening? _

_Will Severus be able to care for Potter without help?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you ...


	12. the Potions Master's vigil

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

At first, I have to apologize for my absence here for over two month, it was the far longest break I ever took, but as some of you already have learned from my profile, real life had thrown me down an abyss from which I couldn't manage to climb up so quickly. I'm still not really up the hill, and neither is the situation under control yet, but I can say that with time I have found some ways to keep my son save by myself - somewhat at least - and I simply _had _to continue writing. My fingers just started to itch.

I will do my best to keep the stories updated regularly, but I won't promise to update as often as I had previously. There are just some days during which I am not even able to keep real life done properly. The story "I just wanted to ask" however, I won't update at all. I will not abandone it completely, but I will keep it at hold for now and I only can hope that everyone who has read the latest entry at my profile will understand why. I just can't bring myself writing about that subject in my current situation ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He didn't know how long he stayed there watching Potter's chest rise and fall, but when his house elf came in again to bring him a cup of strong and black coffee he noticed that his hand traitorously had sneaked its way towards the child's head, his fingers carding through the unhealthy strands of hair of a boy called justharry._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twelve**

**The Potions Master's vigil**

**Sunday**

A dark person, clad in black trousers and a black shirt with rolled up sleeves, sat in an armchair in the shadows of the dark room, watching a small and thin child that was sleeping on a bed that seemed ways too large for him. His pale and tired face seemed calm, but the dark eyes were troubled and filled with horror, horror of what he had just seen, horror of what had just happened the past few hours while the man's mind tried to sort out everything.

He rubbed his dark eyes, as if trying to wipe the tiredness out of them and then he quietly asked for his house elf, a thing he rarely did and that alone was proof enough of _how_ tired he actually was. He requested a cup of strong coffee of the small creature that immediately appeared with a soft 'pop' at his side. He obviously didn't plan on sleeping tonight.

Actually, his mind was going over of what had to be done and in which order it had to be done, and coming to a solution, Severus Snape got off the armchair and sat onto the edge of the bed Potter lay in, looking so fragile and breakable. Or broken already, he huffed inwardly. The boy was asleep, for now, and carefully he extended his hand and gently placed it on the child's forehead, waiting a moment until he was sure the child wouldn't wake upon the unexpected touch. Using a mild form of legillimens he then reached out with his own well trained mind to find the child's thought patterns. He didn't search for memories, knowing that right now that would not be the wisest decision, but he looked for the child's conscious presence.

He however breathed in a sharp breath when he found what he was searching for.

The child's mind was in scrambles. There was one big ... well, _mess_ - was the only word Snape could think of to describe it, where all his conscious thoughts should have been. All that was left were feelings – fear, desperation, pain, horror, and Snape's loathing for the man that had caused this horrifying mess reached a new height after that as, that _man,_ was the cause for Potter's state of mind – that wasn't practically existent right now. He even wondered how the boy had been able to function at all lately, considering the mess his mind was in.

It would recover, he knew, but it would take time and it would take a great deal of work. Time they wouldn't have and work that would be too strenuous for the child that was so very close to death right now. The child's mind needed a break, desperately. But at the same time he knew that with his mind _and_ his core broken, he wouldn't have a chance of survival in the first place.

He couldn't do anything for mending the boy's broken core, he knew that, there was at least not much he could do. The boy's chances to even graduate were minimal and right now he didn't know if he even would survive the next few days, let alone the next year. But he could do something to mend the boy's broken mind. He wasn't a trained legillimens for nothing. He just wasn't sure how much it would help. Maybe it would give the boy a year, maybe even two or three years, maybe just a few weeks or months.

But he simply knew that if he did nothing, then the boy wouldn't have a chance at all, just as well as he knew that he couldn't do anything right now. As much as time pressed, the boy's mind _did_ need a break. Snape stood up and sat back into the armchair, ignoring his creaking joints as he did so.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A soft whimpering was the first thing that woke Snape from his slumber.

Jumping off the armchair he had slept in, he winced at the pain in his neck. He really was too old for dozing off in an armchair, yet, he hadn't intended on falling asleep in the first place. But well, the worries of the past few days and the horror he had seen just hours ago apparently had exhausted him more than he had dared to admit earlier.

A quick look at the grandfather clock in one corner of the room told him that it was nearly two in the morning. He quickly looked over at the bed Potter lay in, gritting his teeth at the occasional soft whimpers that escaped the boy and it was clear that he desperately tried to keep as silent as possible. Whether the child felt the pain in a nightmare only or if he felt the pain in reality, as an aftermath of the beatings he had received over the past few days, he didn't know.

Assuming the potions had worn off he grabbed some pain relieving potion as well as a calming draught and sat next to the silently sobbing teen and he felt himself nearly choke as he noticed the tears of pain running down the child's cheeks.

_'What kind of monsters taught a child to cry __in complete silence?'_

He placed a gentle but firm hand over the child's cheek and absent mindedly brushed the tears off the boy's firmly closed eyes with his thumb while he considered several different ways of pain that he could vest upon the Dursleys.

Gently lifting the skeletal upper body off the bed, ignoring the stiffening of the boy's entire body, ignoring the soft whimpers that escaped the boy upon the pain the movement caused, despite his efforts to be as silent as possible, and ignoring the weak struggle the child tried to put up, he forced the pain relieving potion down the boy's throat and then took the calming draught.

The receding pain however seemed to only make place for other emotions, like the boy's fear that quickly went into horror and panic and even if his struggling was weak, it was enough so the Potions Master had to tighten his grip on the boy so he wouldn't lose his hold on him – what however led to increase the child's panic only and Potter began to scream a desperate scream of horror that pained the older wizard to a point he hadn't felt for a long time.

This was only a child, for Merlin's sake! It was only a thirteen year old child, Lily's thirteen years old child, that was in so much pain, in so much horror and desperation, for Merlin's sake! And no child, no human being at all, should feel so much horror and pain! No child should be beaten and starved to such an extend and …

Snape, shaken out of his own shock, uncorked the vial with the calming potion, wondering if it was the bottle shaking or his hand. It didn't matter however, the potion needed to be given before the boy became even more distressed. He did not want to find out if that was even possible and he forced the potion down the child's screaming throat, massaging the delicate throat to ensure the child wouldn't choke on the liquid while he all the while whispered soothing nonsense to the child he held in his arms.

He definitely wasn't a man for whispering soothing nonsense, but in this case it was just too much, even for him, and he simply couldn't bring himself to be his normal snarky and sarcastic self. So he held the still whimpering and sobbing child in his arms, gently rocking back and forth continuing to whisper calming words into his ear.

He wasn't sure if it was a good sign when the child's whimpers changed into soft pleas, pleas for his uncle to stop, barely audible but clear enough for Snape to hear and to understand them and his rage at the man that had caused such reactions from an innocent child only increased.

A few days ago he surely wouldn't have called Potter innocent at all, but considering what he now knew … well, never mind all the stunts Potter had pulled during the past years at Hogwarts, the boy had done absolutely nothing to deserve beatings, and surely not to such an extend, and the boy had done nothing to deserve being starved to near death, to being abused and raped, absolutely nothing to deserve anything like that.

The boy _was_ innocent.

After what seemed an eternity the pleas for this damnable uncle Vernon to stop ceased, leaving an exhausted and freely crying child in his arms with a Potions Master watching all the while for any more signs of distress while simply continuing to try and sooth the boy with calming words he wouldn't have been able to remember later if his life would have depended on it.

He just stopped long enough to move a bit and to take the jar with the healing salve from the nightstand, opening the jar and once again applying the salve to the chest of the child in front of him before gently shifting the boy in his arms a bit so he could reach his back and to massage the salve into the bruises and welts and cuts and burns on the bony back, one arm still draped over the child's chest while the boy itself hung limp over his arm, enduring the treatment, sobbing silently.

There was no fight left in the child and that was something that disturbed him greatly. The boy's shoulders and back were covered with perspiration and he could feel the sweat from the boy's chest on the bare skin of his lower arm where he had rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. The child still was in pain and the child still was terrified, but he didn't fight anymore, just hung limply over his arm he had draped over the boy's chest so he could reach his back while still holding him in his arms.

Finished with his task, Severus closed the jar and placed it back on the nightstand, continued to simply cradle the broken child that clung to him like to a lifeline to his chest as he pondered over his own disturbing thoughts. He didn't even realize he was gently running his right hand through the teen's unruly hair while murmuring nonsense soothing words at the child.

But only after giving Potter some more calming potion Snape finally somehow managed to pry the teenager's arms from his body and make him lay down, watching the child's face. He was calm, for now at least.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus Snape had retreated downstairs into the kitchen for another cup of coffee and a few minutes of distraction, or a break from the horror he had just witnessed, after he had made sure the boy was tucked in and had taken half a vial of dreamless sleep. It was already half past three in the morning, so Potter hopefully would sleep through the reminder of the night until the early morning, and Snape hoped the child then would be more aware and a bit more in control of himself. He however doubted it, both.

He doubted that the boy would be more aware as his condition was just too weakened and severe, his injuries just too dangerous, and he doubted that the boy would be a bit more in control of himself, because the child's fear and his reactions to it were instinctive, he couldn't react any different and it wasn't his fault either. Merlin! He had never been faced with a child that scared, that terrified, before – shy children, certainly, uncommunicative children, yes, frightened children, that too. But actually _that_ terrified?

He ran a tired hand over his face. He felt as if he were not thirty-three but at least fifty years old.

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

But the boy had not just displayed simple fear towards him but terror. Terror so unlimited he never before had seen anything like this, pure, primal and instinctive terror. But he wasn't even sure if Potter had even recognized him and he wondered if his reaction would have been the same if he had, if his terror would have been as horrible if he had.

Maybe.

He ran a hand over his face while he took a sip of the hot and strong coffee.

The child laying upstairs in ... in that chamber right now was in no state to understand the difference of persons right now and he was sure that he neither had recognized him visual, nor that he had recognized his voice. He could have been anyone to the child. And he was in no condition to differentiate between a friendly touch from a person he knew and an unfriendly one from a stranger. Right now for him simply a touch was a touch, and a touch always meant pain in form of beatings or rape.

Once more he ran his hand through his hair before taking another sip of the coffee.

Maybe not.

Maybe he wouldn't have reacted so terrified if he had known.

The child, even if he feared him, always had trusted him, at least he always had trusted him that he wouldn't kill him. Potter always had known that he wouldn't be friendly with him, and Potter surely always had known that he wouldn't make it easy for him, and if he was honest with himself, then he had to admit that the boy surely even had always known that he would make his potions lessons a living hell, but Potter always had known that he wouldn't kill him, even if he sometimes had wished doing just that, but Potter had known that he always would keep him alive, even if he sometimes hadn't known how, considering all the stunts the boy had pulled at school.

But would that trust have been enough to trust him in such a situation as well? With his health? With his physical and mental wellbeing? Would that knowledge have been enough to recognize him or his voice in such a horrified situation? With a sigh he noticed that – no, probably not.

"Master Severus, sir!" Zilly's squeaking but calm voice got him out of his thoughts. "Little Master has woken up!"

With another sigh he took one more sip of the coffee before placing the cup atop the counter in the kitchen. Of course Potter would wake up already. The boy had no conception of following the rules while awake, so it had been a false hope to believe him capable of doing so in his sleep. Any normal person in the child's weakened state, after half a dose of dreamless sleep, would still be out of it right now, would sleep into the late morning. Not so Potter!

With a frown he remembered the loss of the child's physical reaction to the sleeping potion he had given him earlier in the night, before he had started to tend to all those horrifying injuries upon arriving at Prince Manor. He had given the child a full dose of a sleeping potion so the child would be out while he brought him here and took care of his injuries. It hadn't worked and the child had been awake while he had applied the healing salve on the child's front, only falling asleep midway through massaging the salve onto his damaged back and he hadn't been sure if it had been the potion finally taking hold or simply pure exhaustion.

And while still frowning he remembered that it had taken him two doses of calming potion to get the boy calm earlier. If he continued like that, then he would poison the too fragile child. Potter was in no state for much potions or healing spells, his body was too delicate to deal with a lot of magic right now and he weighted too little for normal doses - what had been the reason as to why he had given him only half a vial of dreamless sleep. And now the boy was awakening despite the dreamless sleep.

"I will be there straight away, Zilly." He answered with a tired sigh. "Please give the house a going over, ensure that it will be suitable for a handicapped teenager. Perhaps a small bowl of soup for the boy as well."

With that he turned and left the kitchen, went along the corridor and upstairs. He hurried down the hallway until he reached the chamber he had put the child in, all the way thinking what he could do differently while approaching the distressed teenager this time, only to realize – he couldn't do anything differently, or rather it wouldn't matter at all if he made anything differently. Neither he nor the child could do anything about the situation right now.

He simply couldn't do anything because it simply was not in his power to take away the boy's fear and the child wasn't to blame either because his fears were just instinctive. The child's reaction to an adult approaching him, touching him in a moment of distress, and probably touching him in any normal situation too, Snape couldn't help thinking, was absolutely instinctive and he felt sickened by the revelation. It not only spoke volumes about the deeply ingrained mistrust Harry felt, even of those who were supposedly there to protect him. It not only spoke volumes about the levels of conditioning Harry had been put through by his uncle, by his relatives, over his relatively short life too. But he knew that he couldn't do anything against it. He couldn't take away mistrust that was that deeply ingrained and he couldn't take away a fear that was so instinctive and primal. He couldn't even blame the child for the reactions he showed, as he could understand.

No, absolutely no child should have to live such a kind of life, until they reacted in such a way to human touch.

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With the misleading slowness of such things the memories of what had happened at Privet Drive began to seep into his consciousness.

The fear came first – in the luxury of a comfortable bed and without the adrenaline that had made it easier to ignore at the time, Harry began to relive the true extent of the terror he had faced throughout the past two weeks and he took in a sharp but silent, sobbing breath before he curled into an as small and protective ball as possible, squeezing his eyes close tightly and trying to force the horrors away, trying to force the fear away.

_Alone!_

_His aunt had left him alone with uncle Vernon!_

He could not let that happen again …

He'd had to defend himself against his uncle and his friends, against his beatings and against the rape, because his aunt had left him there alone! Again! And no one had come to save him! No one!

Oh God …

No! …

No, he would not let that happen again! Hurt too much if it happened … so it wasn't going to happen again! Not again … he would not let them do that again … uncle and his friends would not hurt him again … not like this … he would hide! Yes! He would hide!

He heard soft footsteps coming up the stairs.

_He couldn't __…__ surely he wouldn't … he hadn't … they hadn't … it simply couldn't have happened … they …_

Rocking back and forth on the spot he forced himself to think clearly.

Hide! He had to hide … yes … he was going to hide!

Hide and seek!

Hide and seek … but not being found!

Bad things would happen if he were found … so - no finding … only hiding … hiding from the bad things …

He could hear the soft but steady footsteps approaching, coming along the corridor to his room, if one could call it a room he lived in, coming closer and closer. They were soft footsteps, so it wasn't his uncle this time, not yet at least. And if it wasn't his uncle then it was one of his friends. They all knew where his room was, after all. For a moment he wondered how many would accompany this one to watch this time, but then …

_THINK! FOCUS!  
_

Time to hide finally!

But _no_ skipping numbers! Because _that_ would be bad! That simply wasn't done!

But not as bad as the bad things though … and that was why he was going to hide in the first place … wasn't it? … Harry hiding from the bad things that happened …

The soft footsteps stopped and then door to his room quietly opened.

He slowly made his way to the other side of the bed and when he got to the edge, he simply let himself fall to the floor, ignoring the sharp pain the impact caused while trying to get the breath that had left his lungs upon the impact back into them.

_He simply couldn't … he couldn't … he …__ but he had to … he needed to breathe … he needed to think … he … _

Think! Think Potter! Start counting!

One … two … skip a few …

ninety-nine … _one hundred!_

But Harry still would have to hide first!

Well, he was on the floor, still trying to get some breath into his lungs, trying to figure out what next.

Well, from here, he could try to get underneath the bed – for example.

The soft footsteps still hadn't come closer, the person still hadn't come closer but nevertheless it was already too late! They had already opened the door, they already were there … they already had found him … they already were here to take him … and they wouldn't even have to undress him first … uncle had done so already …

"Potter?" A soft voice asked and he didn't know what the voice meant with that question, but it didn't matter anyway, did it? He had known they would come and he had known that they would stay the night.

He curled up into a small ball again, gripping his hair in white-knuckled fists, breathing in sharply before holding his breath, his body seizing up in this position, his muscles locking themselves before he tried to make the small ball even tighter and his eyes pressed shut tightly.

"Potter!" The voice repeated, and he was sure it was inside the room now, not in the doorway anymore. They were coming closer.

He shook his head, flinched away from the voice.

_Alone!_

He just was alone … as always … there was no one to help him … as always.

There was no one to save him. He always had to save himself. There was _never_ anyone else to save him. No one to help him! Never one to help him!

A hand on his shoulder startled him into action and in a second, he was trying to get under the bed only to just now realize that it wasn't even possible, that the bed had no space underneath. So he changed tactics and within the next second he was behind a trunk and squeezed himself into the space between his wardrobe and wall, staring wildly at whatever had come to touch him.

Chest wracked by heavy breathes and silent sobs, head shaking no in a desperate way and face wet with tears, Harry looked into the shocked face of a black clad figure, Snape's face looking back strangely, in a way he couldn't understand, sad, concerned, worried, shocked, tinged with understanding. He just didn't know what Snape would do here, in his room, together with uncle Vernon's friends.

Neither why the Potions Master would be so concerned and gentle.

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Merlin!

Was the boy even still sane? He had watched the scene unfold in front of his eyes, Potter crawling towards the edge of the bed while softly muttering to himself. He had watched the boy letting himself fall off the bed, not able to move in time to catch the fragile body before he hit the floor with a soft 'thud', and he couldn't help wincing at the sound, but still not able to move at all, while the boy tried to catch his breath. He had watched him counting, had listened to his whispers about the bad things, shuddering at the thought of how young Potter must have been when it had happened the first time, considering that the thirteen year old boy resorted to using language a four or five year old maybe would use.

He remembered Draco speaking more clearly when he had been seven or eight, so Potter must be residing in his own mind being younger than that.

He finally had managed to call the boy's name at least, forcing himself to keep his voice soft and gentle, rather like a question than a shout so he wouldn't startle the already terrified child any more than he already was. The only reaction had been the boy curling into an as small ball as possible, locking his muscles in that position and pressing his eyes shut tightly. He even had held his breath to freeze on the spot, acting like being dead.

He carefully had touched his shoulder and he had been startled into immobility again when the boy had rolled over within the second, trying to hide under the bed, just to roll over again the moment he noticed that it wasn't possible and then to flee behind Charley's … behind an old trunk, squeezing himself into the small space between the closet and the wall with a speed he hadn't thought possible for the weak and so badly injured child.

Gritting his teeth and flexing the muscles in his hands he tried to get back control over himself and taking a deep breath he stepped over to the corner and moved a little closer. The boy shrank further into the corner, shaking his head and hugging himself, but he, Snape, finally had back his composure and control over himself and he simply sank down onto one knee a few feet away, his face blank and calm once more.

"Can you hear me, child?" He softly asked.

Blinking, the boy nodded – hesitantly, his terrified eyes never leaving him or his hands.

"Good, child, well done." He just as softly said before pausing a moment, allowing his words of praise over gaining an answer at all sinking in, hoping the boy would know what they meant.

"Do you know who I am?" He then asked, still softly, carefully and slowly inching closer a bit.

Again, the boy nodded, roughly wiping his face with his fists. It didn't seem that he noticed him coming closer inch by inch.

"Very good. You are safe here, child." He then said, trying to explain the situation to the troubled boy, trying to speak gently and slowly so he would understand. "You are in my manor, a safe house, protected by numerous wards and the fidelius charm. You have been through a lot and you have been asleep for most parts of the night. It still is not daytime yet, thus you might feel a bit disorientated." He took another pause, allowing his words to be registered by the child. "Do you understand?"

Slowly, Harry nodded. It meant he was safe here, at least for now. But still he didn't understand what Snape was doing here. Still he didn't know why Snape was acting so strange, so gentle, and why he looked so worried. And why was he here in the first place? He had asked the Darkmaster for help, and as it seemed, he had kept his promise and had come. But where was he now? And why was Snape here now?

Pulling the sleeve of the overlarge and unfamiliar pyjama top over his hand once more, he attempted to wipe away the tears that were still trailing down his face. Why wouldn't they just _stop_? And where was the Darkmaster? He wanted him! He needed him! The Darkmaster had come to get him from the Dursleys! The Darkmaster had cared enough to get him! The Darkmaster had cared enough to keep his promise! Whatever … he just wanted the Darkmaster! He was his friend! He was the only one that cared! Where was he?

"Won't you come back into the bed, child?" He heard Snape asking and again he wondered why he called him 'child' and why he sounded so gentle and so kind. Snape wasn't kind! And Snape didn't call him _child_! He called him _Potter_! "I daresay it might be more comfortable than the floor in that corner."

Harry actually considered this statement for a moment. He felt a lot safer with his back covered against those two walls just like this – and the wardrobe to his left too gave him a sense of safety - but it wasn't particularly comfortable, he had to admit that. Nevertheless he shook his head. Never mind the comfort, better safe than sorry!

"Alright, child." Snape sighed, lowering himself to the ground upon seeing that the boy wouldn't be ready to come out of that corner anytime soon. And after all the horrors the child had been through, he wouldn't pull him out of it by using force. Not now, not in this situation, and not with a child abused so badly, starved and raped.

He didn't know what exactly had been taken place in that house last night, but he knew that the child right now was noting more than like a frightened, wounded and hungry animal.

He watched the boy flinching back from him the moment he lowered himself onto the floor and he backed up a bit, unconsciously holding up his hands to show that he was not going to hurt the boy. Potter, upon the movements of his hands only tried to hide even deeper within the wall hugging himself tightly again and it took him all of his willpower not to touch him, not to try and comfort him, knowing that right now it wouldn't be comfort to the boy but terror only. So he simply started speaking.

"This manor, Prince Manor, had been built from 1711 to 1714." He said, leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again and watching the child, the child's reactions. "It had been built by Aloysius Prince, and the day it had been finished had been January, 30th, 1714. It was the day your mother was born 246 years later." Well, he at least now had the boy's attention.

"Aloysius Prince had been a kind man, a man that had worked hard in his life and that had started his life as a young man with nothing on his back than his clothes, a pack filled with a second shirt, a leaf of bread, a wooden bowel and a spoon. But he had been a happy man. He had built this manor and he had lived here for many years, working hard on potions he sold all over England. In the end he had died as an old man with a son, a grandson and a grand-grandson, his daughter in law and his grand-daughter in law, all of them living here in this manor." The child still watched him, listened to him, and that was all he right now wanted. Slowly he inched a bit closer again.

"The last Prince living here had been Ansley Prince, together with his wife Eartha and their daughter Eileen. The times that grandchildren and grand-grandchildren lived together as one large family were long passed since and so the three of them lived here alone until Eileen was of age and married a muggle. She moved out then, but Ansley and Eartha Prince often received visits from their daughter and later from their grandson. They even invited their grandson to live here with them when Eileen had died an early death, but the boy, even if living with a father that often had been a drunk and violently then, was too proud, or too stubborn to take the offer and rather stayed living with his father." He was startled to see the child's eyes moving up to him, startled, his face going soft and concerned upon his words, as if the thought of another child being in pain made him sad, made him forget his own misery and pain. Again he inched a bit closer while narrowing his eyes. The child didn't even notice when he reached out and softly touched the bony shoulder, allowing the boy to grow used to the touch before slowly pulling him into his arms, so absorbed he was in his story. If the child only paid as much attention in his class!

"Ansley and Eartha Prince both died in the year 1979. Eartha in January and Ansley in November. Ansley probably had just followed his wife because he had been unable to go on without her. He hadn't been ill, nor had he been very old, considering wizarding standards. Since then the manor had been uninhabited as their only child had been Eileen, who had died too, long before them. Eileen's son had inherited the manor then. But, even if he was of age then, and that for free from his father and his drunken antics finally, he had had no interest in the estate that had been abandoned and empty. It simply had been too large for his liking, too much uninhabited space for his liking. He had chosen to rather live at the place he worked throughout the year anyway. He only had lived here for a few years, with a very close but very ill friend of his, until his friend had died too, but this has been long ago too."

Well, the boy had fallen asleep in his arms finally and adjusting his position, the tall Potions Master eased a hand under the knees of his charge to lift him up into his arms. For a moment he hesitated, knowing that upon the next awakening the boy probably would react in the very same way and land himself on the floor in order to hide or to escape. But then he sighed. He simply would cast a spell, one that wouldn't keep the child from leaving the bed if conscious, but would keep him from falling off if he were in a panic.

"Maybe the manor will be inhabited once again." He softly said, finally standing and carefully lifting the small youth into his arms with no effort. "I only wished this manor wouldn't be a last home for dying people I care for – or start to care for." With those words he deposited the child on the bed and dimming the lights he sat down heavily into the armchair by the bed, preparing himself for the reminder of the already long night.

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A deep and smooth baritone voice just kept repeating the same nonsense syllables over and over again at him and in his foggy mind he wondered what exactly those syllables meant. He simply didn't understand them, they didn't make any sense to him. Not that his mind would have been able to understand if they had been any clearer. He was sure that those syllables surely made some sense, just not to him and his foggy mind.

When the thick fog in his brain slowly but surely thinned a bit, he finally began to make sense of _some _of the sounds. "Pot … need … open … child … wake … can … just … it … eyes …" He couldn't help a small sob escaping him when he felt his shoulders being lifted and a soft pillow stuffed behind him to hold him up. Well, whoever spoke those syllables of which he finally started to understand a few, it seemed he wanted him to wake up. Something _he _didn't want to.

"Come on child …" The voice continued and he noticed that he didn't want the voice to stop speaking. It sounded so soothing and comforting, calming "… wake up now … you can do it … open your eyes, child … that's it, just open your eyes, child."

He finally was awake enough to realize that it was a voice he knew, that someone poured potion over potion down his hurting throat, that a warm hand was pressed against his forehead and that he leaned against a solid body whose voice rumbled through his own body when it spoke. Or when he spoke, and he smiled.

The Darkmaster!

It only could be the Darkmaster!

He had promised he would come and he had come, he was safe. And honestly, if someone could have such a dark voice, then it must be the Darkmaster. So – did that mean that he really cared? Like he had said in their private dialogues? And that he really was there for him? Well – it seemed so.

Harry was sure he did not doze off again, but the next thing he knew, a hand was behind his neck and the rim of a cup was pressed against his lips.

"Drink it, child," Snape's voice came from a haze of darkness and he wondered what Snape did here and why his voice sounded so much like the Darkmaster's voice. "There we go, a little more, child. Almost done."

The hand let him sink back against the pillows gently, and Harry tried to open his eyes. He wanted to see the Darkmaster. He never had seen him. He had written with him and he had liked him, and he had heard his voice now and it sounded so gentle, dark and demanding, but gentle, and so caring.

"Get some rest, child." The Darkmaster said and with a sigh Harry gave in to his tiredness, to the exhaustion and to that demanding voice of the Darkmaster, returning to sleep immediately.

Snape sighed again, noticing that he did way too much of that lately.

"Get some rest, child." He repeated, before getting off the edge of the bed and washed his hands in the bowl of warm water that stood at a nearby side table. He took another vial with the pale blue bone mending potion and sat back onto the edge of the bed, taking one of the boy's bony hands into his own. His fingers gently prodded and stroke over the thin fingers of the child, feeling the swellings going down finally and he again applied the potion to them before finally bandaging the boy's hand and continuing with the other one next, refusing to think of what had had been the cause for those small fingers to be broken so badly.

He washed the potion off his hands in the bowl of warm water standing on the side table and then he took the jar with the healing salve. At least the water didn't turn red with the boy's blood this time, he thought, while he administered the healing salve to the boy's chest and he again began to consider the terrible condition he had found the teenager in.

It was a rare occurrence when Severus Snape swore, but there had been a few moments throughout the night that he had done just that. One moment definitely had been when he had noticed bruises that had not been seen before, beginning to make themselves known and it had been obvious that they simply had been overlaid by others that had started to heal. Another moment had been when he had noticed that the sleeping potion didn't work with Potter and the child had been fully aware of the pain his treatment had caused. And the third moment had been when he had noticed the pain the child had been in while swallowing some water and the soup he had tried to spoon into the boy's mouth.

Dumbledore had always said that Potter's relatives only had the boy's best intentions at heart. He snorted at that while pulling up the blanket over the boy's bare body, covering his lower body but not his chest so the healing salve would not be rubbed away by the soft fabric of the blanket. He cast a warming charm on the bed instead, not daring to use too much magic on the weak child himself. The Dursleys only had had their own interests at heart, needing a cheap slave, a punching bag and someone to fill their needs, even sexually. They never had cared if they destroyed the child in the process.

He was dark and he was tough, evil, some might call him even a monster, but all of those things done to the child by his relatives were far beyond his own limits. Placing long, pale fingers at the boy's neck, a sharp sense of relief flooded his knotted nerves as he felt that the pulse of blood pumping through the child's veins was weak but finally steady and a slight hint of colour had returned to the boy's face while the blue tinge of his lips had turned into a soft red.

"I will not allow this to continue, child." He softly promised while running his fingers over the child's face before sitting back in the armchair. "You might not understand and you might not believe it in the beginning, but I will not let you go through this alone, child. I will not let you die alone."

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**

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To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Will our Potions Master be able to __admit that he cares for Harry?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	13. awake and aware

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"I will not allow this to continue, child." He softly promised while running his fingers over the child's face before sitting back in the armchair. "You might not understand and you might not believe it in the beginning, but I will not let you go through this alone, child. I will not let you die alone."_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter thirteen**

**Awake and aware**

**Monday **

Harry Potter still lay in bed, pretending to be asleep while knowing he wasn't at Private Drive anymore.

He desperately wanted to open his eyes to make sure he really was safe, but he was too afraid to. Waking up in a strange room had always ended badly for him, and he _knew_ that he was in a strange room. He could hear someone moving in the room and he tried to figure out who it was without opening his eyes, but he was pretty sure it wasn't his uncle, which comforted him, but only a little. It could be everyone, from friends of his uncle to Death Eaters that finally had managed to get to him.

But in neither case would he be laying in a bed with soft pillows and covered with a soft blanket.

Darkness.

That was the first thing Harry saw when he finally dared to open his eyes as soon as the movements around him had stopped. Well, so he was blind now, he thought resigned. But well, it just was another thing he would have to deal with, and that for – nothing new. For a moment he remembered being awake – barely, but awake – before and he wondered why he hadn't been blind back then, but the thought and the memory was gone as soon as it had come.

He moved his head around, straining to see anything, and he began to panic. Not because of the thought that he really might be blind, but because of the feeling as if the darkness was suffocating him and quickly, he shot up in bed, immediately laying back down again, slower this time, feeling pain tear through his back, through his chest, through his head and through his entire body.

_'Bad idea!'_ He thought and he took a couple of deep breaths, and winced at the pain it caused.

After he felt some semblance of calm, Harry realized that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he looked around, seeing the blurry outlines of objects around him without really recognizing them. Not blind then, he thought, glancing down and seeing the blanket that covered him to mid chest.

As his panic receded, he once again began to wonder where exactly he was. He felt vulnerable upon not knowing his location and that feeling doubled tenfold when he realized that he didn't even have his wand. Harry knew he wasn't at the Dursleys because of the blanket that covered him halfway. His scar wasn't hurting, so he knew that Voldemort wasn't near him either. So - _where_ was he?

Well, he wasn't at the Dursleys anymore, and that alone at least was something. Along with the feeling of great relief of knowing he wasn't at the Dursleys anymore however, came the feeling of total and utter dismay. He had to be with someone within the wizarding world. So – they knew! They knew! _They knew, they knew, they knew_ … was the only mantra he was able chanting through his head without him being able to stop it and he only felt miserable. He had always done so well in hiding everything the Dursleys had done. But now everybody knew and Harry wanted nothing else than to curl up and hide for the rest of his life that hopefully wouldn't last too long. And considering the pain he felt – it wouldn't.

He tried to move his hands, but they just hurt too much for doing so, just as everything else.

He didn't want to hurt anymore!

Sighing, knowing that he wouldn't be able to change it, never mind what, he looked at his hands for the first time, then wondering why they were so white and so bulky and why he couldn't move them as he was used to, he brought one of them closer to his face, but for some reason everything was blurry and he frowned. He couldn't really remember why but before he could grasp on that thought to find an answer a soft and comfortingly cold cloth was pressed against his forehead and for a short moment he was about to panic.

He pressed his eyes close tightly and he locked his muscles after bringing up his arms to at least protecting his face, awaiting the blow he was sure that was to come, but it didn't. His arms just were shoved down gently and a soft voice whispered soothing words instead while the hand that pressed the cold cloth against his forehead didn't hurt him either, in the contrary, it just felt good, like nothing he ever had felt before, and he imagined that _that_ must be what it felt like being cared for, what it felt like having someone who took care of him for once, who took care of things for once. And he imagined that …

The flannel was removed a minute or so later and Harry even sighed unhappily at the loss of the contact before he furrowed his brow in disappointment over himself. Why was he so greedy upon a simple touch that didn't mean a beating for once? He didn't deserve it anyway and he forced himself to open his eyes, just to find …

Snape … Snape sitting beside him, his big hooked nose only inches from his own and with a gasp Harry tried to flinch away from him, but he only managed to move a few inches, gasping at the pain the sudden movement caused before a firm hand on his shoulder restrained him.

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He had been to the kitchen once more, eating a quick breakfast and when he returned to the boy's room, he found his young charge looking wide eyed around the room, eyes darting quickly through the darkness without really seeing anything, his scarred back pressed firmly against the wall behind the bed the boy was laying in. He didn't seem to register the slight movements the Potions Master was making.

He shook his head at the unaware student while he strode closer to the bed and surveyed the child with a critical eye. Potter was sweating, his brow furrowed in pain as soft gasps escaped his clenched teeth when he lifted one of his hands to look at it. It still must hurt. Some of the fingers had been broken badly and there had been nasty burns on them. The amount of injuries in general kept the child's body from healing as quickly as it should, even with the healing potions and the salves he had administered earlier throughout the night.

The boy seemed to have a headache too, if he read the screwed face correctly, and considering what he had been through, it was no wonder. Taking a clean cloth from the side table and soaking it in the bowl of fresh water Zilly had brought in at some point during the early morning hours he wrung it and placed it onto the still unaware child's forehead.

Well, maybe he should have announced his presence before he did, because the boy seemed to panic for a moment, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his arms up to protect his face. He gently placed his other hand onto the child's lower arms and carefully he shoved them back down, sighing with a slight feeling of frustration.

"Hush, child!" He said, trying to keep his voice soft and gentle. "I won't hurt you, I promise. You are still at Prince Manor and you are still safe here. No one else than me will be able to enter without my consent, no one will harm you here."

It seemed to work and he watched the boy relaxing the muscles he had locked up just a few moments ago. Not entirely, and he guessed that it would take a very long time until the child would relax completely, if he ever would do so, but he did so a bit now and it was a start, a start he, Snape, was satisfied with. He watched the child's face going soft and longing, watched the child's body inching a bit over towards the direction the touch came from, leaning into the touch without really moving and he wondered if he ever had been cared for and comforted before now.

He didn't seem to be aware of what he was doing.

Well, yes – of course he had been cared for and comforted before. He had been cared for and comforted by his mother, by Lily, but that had been so long ago, and the now thirteen year old teenager simply had been too young to remember that now. And considering that Petunia wouldn't even take the boy to the hospital when he had broken ribs … well, so – no, the child surely didn't remember what it must feel like being cared for or comforted and he cursed inwardly.

How could he have thought that he, Snape, cold and dark and evil bastard, could teach the child what it felt like being cared for? Being comforted? How could he have been so stupid? He wasn't a man that cared overly and he surely wasn't a man that displayed care. How could _he_ of all people think that he could teach the child what it felt like to be cared for?

But then, the child seemed so blissful and happy, even upon such a small gesture as a cold flannel pressed onto his forehead. Was he so deeply starved of care and affection that such a small gesture melted the child into a mess that was close to tears? Sighing he took the flannel away and ran it over the boy's face before simply depositing it back into the bowl of water. It had been a stupid question, really. Of course the boy was so deeply starved of care and affection.

For a moment the child's face screwed up with discomfort and unhappiness, disappointment at the loss of the contact and he was close to placing it back at the child's forehead again, just to give him at least that bit of comfort. But then the boy opened his eyes and upon looking at him he gave a small and startled cry away and then tried to flinch away violently, hissing at the pain his movement seemed to cause and he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to restrain him.

He was very glad that the boy appeared to have escaped puncturing a lung with his ribs that had been broken, but he still couldn't allow him to move too much yet. He knew that the herbal tea wasn't keeping much of the pain away and it actually hurt him too, looking at the child being in pain, knowing that there was so little that he could do for the boy. He simply couldn't give him any more potions for the pain without risking poisoning him.

So no, he didn't want to risk anything that would set the child back and maybe damage the boy's lungs after all, thank you very much. Again he wondered why in Merlin's name the boy's pain hurt himself so much too, without finding an answer to his question.

"Good morning, Potter." He tried, not only to distract the boy, but to distract himself as well.

The brat turned his attention to him and then blinked at him stupidly, seeing he wasn't in his usual attire and the boy's eyes grew as large as saucers while watching him. Well, he was wearing, instead his normal suit and school robes, a long sleeved black shirt which's sleeves he had rolled up and a pair of simple black Jeans.

"You hopefully didn't think that the school robes were my skin, Potter." He remarked dryly, trying to lighten the situation and his thoughts with the sarcastic remark. It didn't seem to work as the boy only looked down at his bandaged hands and then immediately apologized and he frowned.

"I didn't mean it as a barb." He said, reaching for a bowl with soup. "So there is no need to apologize." He wasn't even sure if the boy would be able to stomach a simply soup yet, but he had to begin somewhere and honestly, Potter had been starved long enough. It would end here and it would end now. The only problem would be …

Well, he would have to deal with that, as would have Potter.

"Soup only, for now." He said, placing the spoon into the soup. "We will see if you can stomach more in a day or two." He added, reaching the spoon with soup towards the boy – who looked at him with confusion written over his face, replaced by horror and then a shaking of said head.

"You won't be able to use your hands, Potter." He said with a sigh, knowing what had upset the boy so much. "And I won't allow you to go hungry any longer. So there is only one single way left. And if _I_ can manage to feed you, then I am sure that _you_ can accept being fed by me, don't you think?"

He didn't know if it was simply hunger or if really reason had taken over, but the child finally nodded, opened his mouth and accepted the soup he was trying to feed him, though he kept his eyes on him with a wary gaze. Remembering the pain the boy had seemed in during the night while swallowing he watched the teen close now and again the boy screwed his eyes close tightly while swallowing the soup. It wasn't hot anymore, but it was warm enough to hurt if the gullet was injured.

Simply casting a quick diagnostic spell over that area of the boy's body he noticed scarring on the boy's gullet, reaching from his mouth down to his stomach, and he frowned.

"What happened to your gullet, Potter?" He asked, still frowning at the boy.

Harry blinked at Snape, in shock. Why did Snape know that he hurt there? How had he found out about it? He couldn't allow him to find out more. He couldn't allow him to find out why. He couldn't allow him to …

"I have already seen all of your visible injuries, child." Snape said and he blinked in shock. There it was again! Child! But Snape didn't say _'child'_! Snape did say _'Potter'_! And he never would say _'child'_ in such a kind and caring way! Snape wasn't kind, and he wasn't caring! Not over him at least! He would say _'Potter'_ in a menacing way! He would …

But then …

Realizing what exactly Snape had just said he suddenly felt his face turn burning red. Snape had seen … Snape had seen him! Snape had seen what his uncle had done! His professor wasn't stupid! He would put two and two together, and he would get to the right answer! He would know … he probably already knew … he …

Just great! That would be the Potions Master's perfect revenge for when Harry had presented the marauder's map to him last year. Snape knew … Snape could … Snape would …

Severus Snape looked at the child in front of him, calmly, noticing the embarrassment that crossed the child's face, that quickly turned into panic and knowing what probably was going through the child's head he took the boy's chin between his fingers and carefully turned the boy's head, lifted his face so he would have to look at him.

"Look at me, child, and listen to me. That's right, child, focus on me." He slowly gained the boy's attention and he fixed the green eyes with his own dark ones. "I do know what you might be thinking right now, but I do want you to leave this track of thoughts right now. Neither will I judge you upon what your uncle did to you, nor will I ever hold it against you. It was not your fault and I want you to understand that I only wish to help you. I have seen enough teenage bodies to know what they look like if it is that what you fear. I have seen enough injuries throughout the years so I won't be disgusted by the amount of injuries bestowed upon your body if it is that what you fear. And I promise that I never will blame you for it, nor that I will judge you, hold it against you later, or demand a repay in any kind. I only demand that you trust me so I actually will be able to help you in the first place. I need you to trust me and I need to know what exactly is wrong, child."

"Why?" The boy had the nerve to ask and Snape had to keep himself from sighing with frustration.

"Because I cannot help you if I do not know what is ailing you, Potter." He said, hoping that the boy would catch the hint, that he would stop asking stupid questions which he didn't want to answer.

"No." The boy shook his head and this time the Potions Master sighed. The boy didn't catch it, or he didn't want to catch it. "Why do you care in the first place? You hate me! You always hated me! You … you … you …"

The last words were whispered with a desperate sob and the boy tried to turn away from him, tried to curl up on his side, only to fall off the stack of pillows he had been leaning against, heading face first for the wall to his side, unable to stop himself in his weakened state.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry let out a sigh of relief as strong arms caught him when he fell before completely smashing his face against the wall and gently lifted him up and onto the soft pillows once more. For a moment he couldn't help giving a startled scream away at the touch, but then, noticing that it was only Snape touching him, holding him before he could hurt himself … well, he was confused now.

Why was Snape taking care of him? And why was Snape caring about him?

The Potions Master watched intently as the damnable child drew back a little, not understanding why it was so important to the brat to know his intentions, not understanding why the boy seemed so desperate. He quickly reached out to take the boy's upper arms in a firm grip before he could crash face first into the wall he was heading at, trying to keep his grip careful nevertheless, not wanting to hurt the child more than he already was, and he placed him back against the pillows, keeping his hand on the child's shoulder, teeth pressed firmly together while he sighed and then nodded to himself.

Obviously it was not going to be a simple project, getting the boy to trust him. And obviously it was not going to be a simply project, getting the child to accept him. If he wanted this to work, if he wanted the boy to accept him, then he would have to be open with him, never mind if he liked it being open generally or not.

"First, I do not really hate you, Potter, and I never have." He said, nearly growling, already seeing his reputation going down the hill. "I just disliked you, because I have been so sure that you were a spoiled and arrogant prince like your father had been and I have not been able to difference between the two of you. I do see now how far from the truth I have been and I want to help you because you simply _do_ need help. You are here, Potter, in need of someone who cares for once in your life and I am here, ready to give this care. And before you ask, you are my student, so of course I do care. So we can make this easy and both accept that fact, or we can make it difficult and go against each other, what won't help either of us in the first place."

"But I don't understand …" The boy whispered.

"Is there a need to understand?" Snape simply asked. "I do know that you do not understand and I am aware of your fear and mistrust on your part towards my person. But I ask you to try and simply accept the fact that I am here and that I am ready to help you. For once in your life there will be an adult that is ready to help – so just accept it, you idiot child."

"I can't." The damnable brat whispered, his body going limp with resignation, his eyes going down onto his hands with shame or embarrassment, he didn't know. "Because it won't last anyway, because I will have to go back anyway. I have already told the Darkmaster. But he didn't believe me either."

With a sigh and his teeth still pressed together Snape grabbed the boy's chin and forced his head back up to look at him again.

"First, you have my word that you will never have to go back there." He growled darkly. "You can stay here for as long as you need and for as long as you wish, child. I will not let your uncle near you ever again, and that, Harry, is a promise. And I _do_ tend to keep my promises. Not to mention that I simply do not approve of child abuse."

He sighed. Now would come the really difficult part. Potter had mentioned the Darkmaster, even if not consciously and even if more to himself than to him, Snape, but he _had _and if he didn't tell him the truth now, never mind the child's reactions, then he only would hurt him worse than if he told him now and disappointed him. He simply would have to face it. He had faced worse.

And he never had lied to his students anyway, he wouldn't start doing so now.

"And yes, I do know of your words towards the Darkmaster." He finally said after taking a deep breath, readying himself for the boy's reaction, for his anger, for his rejection and for his disappointment. "And if I remember correctly, then he told you that he would be able to help you, to get you out of that place. You should have trusted him back then."

He watched the child's face growing confused, the green eyes blinking at him, not understanding. Well, as it seemed the boy's mind couldn't put two and two together yet and he had another second before the boy's storm that was sure to come.

Then the pale face went from confused to horrified. Well, as it seemed – it was about to start, the boy's storm.

But it didn't come. No shouting, no screaming, no tantrum, no scene, no nothing. The boy just stared ahead of him, silent tears slowly running down the thin and pale face.

"Disappointed?" He couldn't help asking, feeling hurt by himself, disappointed that the boy didn't rage at him, didn't seem to care enough for that, trying to hide it behind his words. "Or disgusted?"

He didn't get an answer for a while and he nearly was about to throw something, preferably the bowl of soup that still rested on the nightstand. How could he have been so stupid to think that _that _could work? Potter wasn't even angry with him. Well, he did seem to care about the fact that he had deceived him, as he cried. But he simply cried. He didn't even ask anything.

"Neither." The brat finally whispered, still not looking at him, but angrily brushing off his tears with his bandaged hands that he had forced into fists, and he tilted his head to his left a bit, furrowing his brows while he watched the teen. "I just have realized how stupid I am. I had thought that he was my friend, and that he cared about simply me, about just Harry. And all the while I had feared I would lose him after the holidays. Now I know I never had him in the first place. I was so stupid. I should have known that there never had been someone for me. Never one for Bloody Harry Potter. Never one for the Blasted Boy Who Lived. I have fooled myself."

Now it was Snape's part to blink at the boy confused. What exactly was _that_ about? What exactly …

"Potter?" He asked, simply wanting to get his questions answered instead of doing riddles understanding the boy.

"He can't be my friend, as he is you." Potter finally whispered, his eyes on him finally but not really seeing him. They rather seemed to be far away. "I thought we could be friends, but you never would allow such a thing. I thought … I thought that there was more, that he liked me, and in a different way than Hermione and Ron. But I was wrong, you never would like _me_, Bloody Harry Potter. I thought that he … just forget it!" The boy seemed to get angry finally, but what disturbed him was the fact that he didn't seem to get angry at him, Snape, for deceiving him so much, but at himself for once in his life trusting someone. And he knew that Potter had trusted the Darkmaster, more than he had trusted Granger or Weasley even. Otherwise he never would have told him anything, never mind how persistent he had been with demanding answers from him.

"I just liked him." Potter finally continued, after needing a moment to get himself back under control. "But you _never _would want me liking you. You hate me too much for … I just trusted him. And then he had come, you know? He actually kept his promise, you know? There never had been people keeping their promises. But he had. And I can't even say that I have lost him, because I never had him in the first place. What do I do now?"

"You simply trust, for once in your life, as you have trusted the Darkmaster. For yes, Potter." He said, knowing that maybe it was time to simply bring the Darkmaster forth. "For once in your life you have trusted someone. Not even Granger or Weasley did have your full trust, I do know this, you idiot boy. But maybe you should try to listen, or should I write it down for you? I do not hate you, I told you so just a moment ago. And I already told you that you could stay here as long as you needed and as long as you _wanted_, Potter! Do you really think that I do invite all my students to stay here at my manor as long as they wish to? Do you not realize what those words mean? You idiot Gryffindor!"

Well, as harsh as his words had been, they finally got the idiot child to use his brain for once in his life and he growled while glaring at the boy that blinked at him.

"But I don't understand!" Potter again whispered.

"If you had paid attention to anything the Darkmaster wrote to you in those blasted private dialogues, then you would know that there is no reason to understand everything but to simply accept the fact that he cared." He growled darkly to mask his own feelings. "And if you had listened to anything I have said to you just a few minutes ago, then you would know that I indeed do care, you idiot child! Then you should know that I actually do care enough to not only help you right now with your injuries, but that I actually do care enough to keep you from going back to those blasted muggles you have the misfortune to call your relatives, that I do care enough to keep you here at my manor as long as you wish to stay here. Do you even notice what those words mean, you idiot child? Do you even realise that I have made you an offer, you silly child?"

Again Potter blinked at him with irritation, confused, startled even, before …

"But …"

"There are no buts, Potter!" He growled, still glaring. "Yes, I am still Snape, cold and dark dungeons bastard, your Potions Master and the most hated teacher at Hogwarts, but I am still the Darkmaster too. If you accept me in your blasted life that is! If you keep your attention up for once in your life to understand that I am here to help you! You have said that you feared losing me, back in those bloody private dialogues and I have offered to help you, to talk to you even if we were back at school and do not take me for someone making empty promises! I would not have offered if I hadn't meant it. Back then I offered being a constant in your life, Potter. And I am _still_ ready to be a constant in your life, try to get that into that thick skull of yours! I am ready to overtake the role of a caring adult for once in your life!"

He hadn't meant to get so angry, and he surely hadn't meant to be so harsh, but that idiot child just pushed his buttons and he couldn't help it. Did he really have to say it out aloud? Did he really have to say to that idiot child that he offered him a home?

"You mean …" Potter blinked at him in shock, his breathing coming in harsh gasps and his small frame shaking, fear written all over his appearance. Fear of being rejected if he dared asking his question, fear of being laughed at, fear of being … "Do you really … I mean … do you really … no! You surely wouldn't … you cannot …"

"Actually I do, you silly child!" Snape sighed. As it seemed he _had_ to say it out aloud. "I actually _do _offer you a home, Potter! And now shut up and simply answer my earlier question!"

Again the idiot child blinked at him, still shocked, still trembling, still breathing in his hard gasps, nearly choking now, nearly giving away strangled sobs, barely visibly shaking his head in lack of understanding.

"But … you … you can't … no one … and you …"

"No, I do not hate you, as I already told you." He sighed, realizing that it was the same reaction Potter had shown back in their private dialogues, when he had offered him his care for the first time, when the boy had gone offline, scared to death as it had seemed, unbelieving that anyone really could care about him. "And yes, I _can_ care, as I already do. And now calm down, Potter! Take deep breaths and calm down!"  
Well, if he had thought that it would be so easy then he had thought wrong. The boy still shook his head, still nearly suffocating.

"But I don't … you can't … you … don't you understand? Don't you see? I …"

"Easy, child!" Snape leaned forwards. "Calm down! I actually do see very clearly. You have been neglected of care, comfort and affection for so long that you don't think anyone could give it to you ever, and last of all me. I _do _see, child, and now calm down."

"No … no one can … no one would … you can't …"

"Hush, child!" He repeated, softly, placing his hand onto the boy's chest, performing a gentle pressure onto the child's chest, firm enough so he would feel the touch, so he would know he was there, present, he wasn't alone, but careful enough at the same time so he wouldn't worsen the child's injured ribs. "Take deep breathes! That's it, easy, child. Calm down, breathe calmly. You are not to go through this alone. I will be here, if you let me, I will guide you through this, if you allow me to. You are safe, child. Trust me. What would you like doing after graduation?"

He wasn't sure if it was his use of the word 'child' or 'safe', or if it was the distraction of continuing their game of asking questions and giving answers with which all of this had started over two weeks ago that had calmed said child down, but one of those things had gotten through to the brat finally and the child's tense limbs slowly became somewhat limp while his breathing slowly started to calm down.

"That's it, child." He whispered. "And now answer the question, what would you like doing after graduation?"

"I … I don't … I don't know …" Potter whispered, stammered, hesitatingly, still scared and still shocked. "I … everyone expects me … to become … to become an … an auror."

Why hadn't he known that?

He should have known that the boy's choice of career would be becoming an auror only because of everyone expecting this of him. Because his father had been one and everyone expected of him becoming an auror too, Just like he played on the Quidditch team only because his father had been a seeker during his schooldays and everyone expected him to do the same, to play on the team, even if he didn't really want to.

What else did the boy do just because it was expected of him?

And _he_ really had thought him being disobedient?

That child wasn't disobedient. That child actually only tried to please _everyone_, what simply was a task impossible to fulfil. He just always had to calculate one risk against the other. He just always had to balance between what one person expected of him and what another person expected of him and there simply was no space between. There was no space that was Harry Potter's space. It was either James Potter or the wizarding world. It was either Severus Snape or Vernon Dursley. It was either Minerva McGonagall or Petunia Dursley. And it was either Albus Dumbledore or Tom Riddle. But it never was Harry Potter. There never had been a space between that simply was the child, the boy, uncaring, safe and his.

justharry.

There never had been a place where he could have felt safe, where he could have been just Harry, and suddenly he understood the boy's choice of the name justharry. Suddenly it made sense to him, such a sickening sense that he wanted nothing else than running his fingers over the child's pale and frightened face to give a moment of comfort. He had done so with his Slytherins often enough and he had done it with that child while he had been asleep or else wise unaware of the comforting touch or who gave it. But he also knew that right now the child was already startled enough.

"And what would you really like doing after graduation?" He that for simply asked, trying to get back on the track he had started earlier.

"I … I don't know … I mean … I never have thought … because …"

"Because you are used doing what others expect of you." He said when the boy trailed off, unwilling or unable to continue, probably not even knowing what he did, probably not knowing that he only did what others expected of him, without having an own will, without having an own life. "You do not really like playing on the team, but you do because it is expected of you. You do not want to become an auror, but you do because it is expected of you. Maybe you give it a try and think of what _you_ would like doing after school." He waited a moment, giving the child time to think over his words, to calm himself a bit and to regain some of his composure, knowing how important such things were for abused children.

"It is your turn, ask your question." He then said.

There was a pause during which the boy blinked at him in shock, still something that seemed close to desperation radiating off the child. And he could see the tiredness, the exhaustion taking over, all that had happened and all that he had learned during the past half hour or so taking its toll on the child and he wasn't sure if he even would get a question in return.

He didn't even know if he would like to get a question in return, because he really didn't want to explain why he had entered the 'room of requirement' in the first place. He didn't care admitting that he had wanted to fool them a bit. He _was_ evil after all and Potter knew it. But he didn't want to admit that it actually had been fun in there, because that finally and definitely would destroy his reputation. And irreversibly so.

But then …

"Why … why did you start the private dialogues with me in the first place? Of all people? I mean … you … you knew that it was me."

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**

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To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The persistence of a Potions Master - or a Darkmaster and the evilness of a headmaster_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too , thank you ...


	14. questions and answers

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He didn't even know if he would like to get a question in return, because he really didn't want to explain why he had entered the 'room of requirement' in the first place. He didn't care admitting that he had __wanted to fool them a bit. He was evil after all and Potter knew it. But he didn't want to admit that it actually had been fun in there, because that finally and definitely would destroy his reputation. And irreversibly so._

_But then …_

_"Why … why did you start the private dialogues with me in the first place? Of all people? I mean … you … knew that it was me."_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter fourteen**

**Questions and answers**

**Thursday**

"Why … why did you start the private dialogues with me in the first place? Of all people? I mean … you … you knew that it was me."

Snape groaned inwardly. Of all questions …

He had thought that the worst question Potter could have asked would be the question as to why he had been in the 'room of requirement' at all. But apparently he had been wrong and Potter had managed to find an even worse question. Namely why he had started those blasted private dialogues in the first place, and with him, of all people.

"Well, I do have to admit that, in the beginning, I simply have been curious." He finally answered, carefully choosing his words. "But then, after a while, this curiosity had changed into worry. And then it had changed into care, loath as I am to admit that little fact. I simply cared and I simply was worried. Do you even know how often I was close to simply apparating to Private Drive, even without your consent? Do you even know how often I paced in front of that blasted monitor because I was worried? Do you even know how often I ..." He took a calming breath. He was about to get angry at the boy again, for refusing him so vehemently while his help had been needed so desperately. Well, the blame partially lay with him, and he knew that. Had he given himself away, had he told Potter who he was, then the boy might have asked for his help earlier.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But the blasted boy just had refused him! That blasted boy just had refused his help, completely! The blasted boy could have _died_, for Merlin's sake! Once more he took a calming breath before he exploded. It wasn't the boy's fault that he never had learned to ask for help. It had been the fault of the adults around him. None of them had taught the child that he could ask for help, none of them had taught the child that he could trust them, and none of them had taught the child that he didn't stand alone.

It would end, he swore to himself once more, it would end, and it would end here and now.

"I, for my part, however am glad that I actually _have _started those blasted private dialogues in the first place, as I have come to see that you were not the spoiled and arrogant prince I always thought you were, Potter. And I simply started to worry and to care for you. Those conversations however had been more than just a way to keep an eye on you and your health. As startling as it might sound, but I actually enjoyed them. What is the reason I finally decided to help you not only momentarily in getting you out of this house and in taking care of your injuries like I normally would have done, but permanently in overtaking the role of an adult in your life that cared about you once and for all. I have been ready to overtake this role already a few days ago while offering you conversations even back at Hogwarts after the holidays when – at the latest – you would have learned of my real identity. And don't you dare asking me what had changed that I now am willing to endure your presence here for as long as you wish, and knowing you, you will cling to me like a primate for the rest of your miserable life. You would not get an answer as I do not have one myself."

"But …"

"It is not your turn, Potter." He growled, fixing his eyes on the brat and then tilting his head to one side carefully considering if he could dare his next question.

"So – what _happened _to your gullet that it is scarred down to your stomach?" He then asked.

There wasn't an answer for a very long time, and somehow he knew that no answer would come at all. This wasn't like the private dialogues he'd had with the boy called justharry. This here was different. This here was more personal and they were face to face. There wasn't a keyboard and a monitor between them that could act as a shield to protect the boy.

"I would appreciate an answer, Potter." He growled darkly.

"I don't want …"

"You should know meanwhile how persistent the Darkmaster can be if he wishes an answer." He said, interrupting the boy, glaring at him while at the same time trying to keep his glare as well as his voice as none-threatening as possible while, again at the same time, being intimidating enough to gain an answer. "And right now I still _do_ wish an answer as to what had happened to your gullet that it is scarred so badly."

"Nothing …"

"_Nothing_ … cannot have scarred your gullet down to your stomach so badly, Potter!" He said, glaring. "So try again."

"It was … it was nothing …"

"The truth, Potter!"

"It is …"

"… not – the truth, Potter!" He growled darkly, leaning closer. "Try again!"

Again there was nothing for some time, for a long time, the child looking else where but him, looking at the wall behind him, at the blanket that still covered his lower body, at his hands. But then -

"I have … I have burnt … I have burnt uncle Vernon's steaks." Potter finally whispered, still not daring to look at him, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

Well, it maybe was for the best anyway, that the boy didn't look at the Potions Master, otherwise he would have seen the fury flashing in Snape's dark eyes, the rage that caused the older wizard to curl his hands into fists, and he would have seen the anger soaring through his entire appearance. Anger so plain and elementary like nothing else he ever had felt before.

This man surely had not … closing his eyes for a moment Snape took a deep and calming breath by himself, knowing that if he didn't calm down, he only would frighten the child in front of him. He had thought that the horrors Potter had been through couldn't be worse, but apparently he had been wrong.

"So he had decided to burn your gullet as punishment." He simply stated when Potter didn't continue. The boy just shrugged his shoulders, not even nodding in admission, not even shaking his head in denial either. "What did he use?"

Well, again there was a pause before Potter continued and he waited patiently, until -

"Just hot water."

Just. Just! The way Potter said it, made him think that it had been alright, because it had been – _just_ – hot water … that it had been … taking another deep breath he tried to calm himself once more. Never before, not even during all the Death Eater meetings had he been upset so often during one week as he was now and never before, not even during all those Death Eater meetings had he been _that _upset at all.

"When has that been?" He asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

Well, he simply _had _to know how long ago it had been. If it had been recently, then the injuries surely were not healed yet and he could rectify the situation, if it had been the summer _before _however, then they were healed already and they just were healed badly. He would have to find another way to undo what had been done to that child - or to ease this child's pains. But whatever it was, he knew what it meant, and to force water hot enough to damage the mouth, the gullet and the stomach down a child's throat …

"Dunno … 't has been long 'go."

"Did he allow you to drink cold water afterwards?" He asked forcing his voice to sound calm. "Did he allow you to at least throw up afterwards?" He was so angry, he right now didn't even mind the teen's sloppy speech. How could anyone do such to a child? How could …

He barely registered the headshake the teen gave away and summoning Zilly he asked his house elf for a few different potions.

The small creature soon came back and Snape took the vials with a "thank you, Zilly" and then placed them on the nightstand, keeping one with a white and thick liquid which he uncorked. He however didn't place the vial on the boy's lips this time.

"This is a numbing potion, Potter." He explained, suddenly knowing _why _the child had been so panicky, back at Private Drive, when he had forced the first potions down the child's throat, knowing that the child, in his panic, might have thought that they could have been everything, and probably – most likely – something harmful. "You will have to take this potion each morning, preferably before breakfast. It will be difficult to swallow at first, but you will get used to it soon. The potion itself will cover your mouth, your gullet and your stomach walls with a fine film that will keep it protected from whatever it is you are eating or drinking. Added to this it will numb the scarred areas enough so you will be able to swallow without pain."

He finally reached over, placing the vial at the child's lips, only nodding when he noticed the hesitance and the fear, without making a scathing remark. After that he simply continued feeding the boy with the soup, while said boy simply allowed him doing so, wordlessly, still not daring to look at him.

What he however noticed, after a few more spoons of soup he scooped into the child's mouth, was the boy's desperate attempts to control his emotions that seemed to threaten to finally take the upper hand. Not panic, like it had been before, not fear either, or anything akin to that.

It rather seemed to be something like absolute misery, sadness, despair, shame, desolation, grief, sorrow … whatever he wanted to name it, it right now applied. The boy desperately tried to keep the tears at bay, to keep his shoulders that started to shake with silent sobs as steady as possible, and to keep his hitching breath as calm as possible, not realizing that he worked himself just the more into a state, and he placed the bowl aside on the nightstand again.

The boy had started to slow down anyway, his stomach not used to such an amount of food, even if it hadn't been much at all.

He reached out his hand and stroked the black hair hesitantly, his mind in such turmoil that he barely noticed what he was doing. The boy flinched at the touch, his cloudy mind taking a moment to realize the hand touching his head wasn't going to hurt him before he sighed and his arms lost their tension, allowing the Potions Master to simply wrapping his arms around the frail child while sitting on the bed, awkwardly pulling him close while he sobbed.

"I need you to rest some more." The Potions Master told Harry, not altogether unkindly. "Your body has taken some pretty harsh treatment these past couple of weeks. Years actually. You need to rest and you need to recover."

Harry didn't reply and Snape didn't push him away so the boy just closed his eyes and for once in his life enjoyed the feeling of being held instead of beaten, of being comforted instead of hurt, breathing deeply in and out while Snape gently rocked the still crying child against his chest, talking softly about nothing until the boy eventually fell back to sleep. This time he was actually sleeping calmly and deeply, while being held.

At some point Snape realized that he was just sitting there watching the sleeping boy, and he told himself that he was just seeing if the pain had left the child, but the young boy just looked so peaceful – and so _harmless_. He touched the blanket around the child's waist for a moment, as if straightening it, before he placed his hand on the child's bare shoulder. It was not a cold night, and nevertheless he could feel that the boy's skin was cool, too cool.

Potter seemed to feel the pressure and slowly tried to open bleary, green eyes.

"Hush, go back to sleep child." He whispered, casting a quick warming spell on the bed the boy lay in as well as on the blanket he was covered with, still not daring to cover the boy completely to keep the blanket from rubbing away the salve on the boy's chest. "Everything is fine, go back to sleep, child."

The damn brat closed his eyes obediently, nuzzling back into the pillows and the blanket, and suddenly the child seemed so small. He touched the brat's forehead, arranging his hair, and he sighed. This forced interaction with the boy was bringing out levels of his personality that had lain dormant within him for years … possibly his entire life.

Why did he do this?

What had that boy done to him? To his reputation? To his self control?

Blasted brat!

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Harry woke with a start, not really knowing what had woken him, not knowing his surroundings and not realizing anything else either, just that he hurt and just that he wasn't fully awake either. For a split second he knew that it wasn't the first time, but then that realization was gone as soon as it had come and he already felt his muscles locking themselves while twitching at the same time, unable to keep them still while at the same time unable to move them.

His mind was in a strange sort of limbo, not really awake, but not asleep either, but he didn't even realize this. What he _did _realize however was, that he was in pain. His arms hurt, as did his legs, and his hands, his fingers, and his stomach, his back and his neck – hell, everything hurt, every body part at least that had any kind of muscles hurt and he would like to just stop them from cramping, he would just like to relax them, but he didn't know how.

Since he'd had those seizures for the first time, he had read a lot about them, and he had read of epilepsy, but he knew that it wasn't that. He had read that during an epileptic seizure people didn't realize what happened, at least not really, or not completely, but he did, even if not clearly, and he wanted his muscles to stop. Well, there just hadn't been anyone whom he could have asked about it, and so he still didn't know what those seizures he had meant. A fact that – even if barely in his strange state right now – worried him just as much as the pain and that for just caused him to whimper in his fear while he worried what was happening with him – again.

Still caught in the muscle locking tremors, he never saw the door to his room open, nor did he see the completely shocked look on the Potions Master's tired face. Only when the seizure had passed did he feel a hand supporting his head while the other seemed to be trying to keep the rest of his body from thrashing out.

Snape was immediately on guard when he opened the door to Potter's room, just to find the bed empty.

Heavy breathing came from the other side of the bed and the Potions Master leaned over to see what had happened, he guessed that the boy had fallen off the bed during a nightmare probably, but then he rushed over hurriedly to look at the boy that was either shivering or trembling, he could not tell which.

He quickly went behind the boy and gently held his head, trying to keep harm from falling on the boy's already delicate body.

"Zilly!" He quietly called out, his voice still calm, but even _he_ could hear the small hint of panic lacing through the calmness meanwhile. When would it simply stop? What else would happen with the child? Wasn't it already enough? But then – those seizures, he should have known they would come. They were the first signs, after all.

At that, it was his second seizure in three days so far, '_too much'_, he for a moment thought. The first had been happening the evening he had taken Potter from that place. This one however seemed to last longer then the other one that had lasted for a few seconds only and that he had mistaken for simply exhaustion back then.

The boy was on the border of regaining control again when Zilly literally ran in.

"Seizure." Snape quickly said at his worried stare.

The elf quickly ran over to the side table taking a muscle relaxer like the one that Severus had used a few days earlier and reached it at the older wizard.

"Potter … Harry …" Severus said in a tone that only Poppy ever had heard from the evil Potions Master of Hogwarts. "Try to concentrate on my voice, alright? I am going to give you something that will ease the pain, but I will have to open your mouth first." He said this while already in the act of doing just that and then he poured the clear liquid down the boy's throat.

"Alright." He said, something akin to panic still in his voice. "Just swallow, child … come on and just swallow it … your natural reflexes still work … you can do it … just swallow … that's it, child, well done …" He popped the boy up a bit in his arms and helped him by gently massaging the child's throat before he took another vial with a calming potion, holding this one onto the child's lips too.

"This one will calm you down so you won't get into a seizure again during the next few hours. All right, child, just swallow." He repeated his actions and his words, pouring the potion down the child's throat. "Swallow the potion and then you can go back to sleep."

He could see that the child tried, that he _really_ tried, but that he just could not get the stuff down and he watched the boy's eyes widening a little more upon the fear he would suffocate. He gently stroke his fingers over the child's throat again, tried to give as much encouragement as possible. "Come one, child, you can do it. Just swallow … you will not suffocate … just swallow the potion … there we go, good boy. Now relax, everything will be just fine. You are not alone, child, I am quite here."

Harry, somewhere in his subconsciousness, knew that this either couldn't be real, or that he wasn't in his cupboard right now, never mind how dark and suffocating his surroundings seemed.

There was absolutely no way that his uncle would care enough to hold him while those damn seizures ran their course. He normally lay in his cupboard – or in his room on either the bed or the floor, hoping that it would go away as soon as possible. But not this time. This time he could feel someone holding him, and gently so, while a deep and velvet, a calm voice told him to swallow, told him to relax, told him that he wouldn't suffocate, told him that it would pass, told him that he wasn't alone, and they felt strangely comforting, those words.

For a moment he even remembered that voice. It was the Darkmaster that still was with him, just like he had promised. He had taken him from the Dursleys, and he had stayed with him, just like he had promised.

His chest hurt more than it had before, while he tried to keep from crying, not realizing that tears welled down his pale face at the Darkmaster's kind words.

He rather guessed that it either was from his uncle's earlier ministrations or that he had hit something in the seizure, what surely wouldn't have been the first time, but breathing was becoming increasingly difficult and something in his throat made a strange gurgling noise as he tried to rasp for more breath. It was a sound that startled him, that frightened him, and he tried harder and harder, without getting any more air into his lungs.

He was suffocating! Nothing helped! He just was suffocating!

"Easy, child … calm down. You are panicking." The Darkmaster said and Harry tried to do as the older boy asked of him, tried to shove the feeling away, or to at least ignore it – without any success. "I am going to give you another relaxing potion and I need you to swallow it quickly, do you understand?"

Harry nodded barely alert, not really understanding what the words meant, before feeling the cool glass pressed to his lips and some thick liquid entering his mouth. For a moment he panicked, fearing the worst, fearing his uncle … but then - it didn't hurt, and the words the Darkmaster spoke were still calming, the Darkmaster still was there, with him, he still wasn't alone, and so he tried to get his fear under control as good as possible. He tried to swallow the syrupy potion as quickly as possible, needing a few attempts to manage the nearly impossible task, before he finally felt his muscles relaxing from the still tense position they just a moment before had been in.

He didn't hear the Potions Master sighing a sigh of relief, he didn't see the older wizard's concerned and worried face and he didn't feel the Potions Master easily lifting him off the floor and placing him back onto the bed. He had fallen into a black void of unconsciousness that promised just a bit of a rest from everything for once.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The next morning, Harry could barely open his eyes. They felt just too heavy for doing so. "Pr'fess'r …" He whispered, his voice strangely rough.

The Potions Master was at the boy's side in seconds, a cool, wet cloth in his hand. He had been sitting in the armchair beside the boy's bed for a long time yesterday morning, worrying over the seizures he just had witnessed, before he'd had Zilly calling Poppy. It hadn't been a particular pleasant visit, he had to admit.

**Flashback**

_"I asked Zilly to fetch you, Poppy … not the headmaster." Snape hissed, his voice dropping several degrees, and he was glad that Potter was out of it, or he would have had a child scooting back into the headboard with panic. _

_"Oh, I only wanted to have a look at the boy__ myself, to see if he is well enough to be sent to the Weasleys." Dumbledore smiled at him. _

_"I beg your pardon, headmaster?" Snape asked, his face a dark mask._

_"And I still say I don't think that the wisest decision for the boy, Albus!" Poppy snapped at the old wizard and the Potions Master actually was glad that the woman thought as did he – namely that it was a stupid idea. "The boy wouldn't do well there. He only would fear them. What he right now needs is rest and peace."_

_"In other words - he panics if there are too many people around him, or if said people are coming too close to him." Snape growled darkly. "I agree with Poppy. Not to mention the fact that Potter is far from fine enough for being sent anywhere."_

_"Oh, but I'm sure he'll be able to cope. They are as good as Harry's family, after all. What he needs in this time of distress is his family." Dumbledore stubbornly said, nearly cheerfully. _

_"I beg to differ, headmaster." Snape hissed. "You know nothing about child abuse, nor what abused children need. The Weasleys only will suffocate him, thinking he needs a lot of affection. They won't give him the space and the peace he right now needs. He, in answer to that, will flinch away from their touch and panic whenever there are too many of them around. They on the other hand will not understand that he is not afraid of them, but people in general and they won't be able to hide their disappointment from him, what only will resume in the boy getting feeling guilty added to everything else."_

_"But that it is what I want him to get used to again." Dumbledore said and he narrowed his eyes at the headmaster. "I want him to get used to people again as soon as possible. We still need him in the upcoming war, Severus. He will have to recover quickly and he will have to set his own fears __and feelings aside. He is the Boy-Who-Lived, Severus, and he does not have the luxury to nurse his own fears and disappointments."_

_Snape had to fight the urge to close his eyes in silent __fury and only years of spying and controlling his impulses stopped him from showing how sick he felt at those words, while he barely registered Poppy standing close, staring at Dumbledore in near shock._

_"I suggest you leave, headmaster." He drawled, his dark eyes cold. "As I said, Potter is nowhere near well enough for being sent anywhere. I will inform you as soon as he is however."_

**End flashback**

He had known.

He had known that Dumbledore would try to get Potter back to being his weapon. He had known and he hadn't liked it, but he had not known that the old fool would act so soon, that he wouldn't even give the boy a bit of time to at least recover. He had hoped that he would have more time. Time to prepare the boy, time to get the child back on the way of health at first, time to prepare himself for …

Well, he simply would have to act a bit quicker than he had planned earlier, he simply would have to contact Jason Cartier a bit sooner as he originally had planned.

Originally he had planned to talk with Potter about him, Snape, gaining guardianship over the brat, but as it seemed, he didn't have enough time for that. The boy was barely aware of what was going on around him most of the time, what was understandable. But he didn't have the time to simply wait until Potter was, as Dumbledore already made plans for taking the boy else where. Something he wouldn't allow. Potter would remain quite here, at his manor, and with him, where he could have an eye on him.

He had promised the boy to be there for him and he would keep his promise.

Not to mention that Poppy had confirmed his earlier worries could be real. And so – the boy needed someone close who had experience in such things. Not that he could do much, but he at least could do _something_.

The boy that had just occupied his thoughts since hours now, since days actually, finally stirred and mumbled something under his breath, in his wakening state, and he went over to the large bed.

The child however seemed trapped in a state between waking and sleeping and with a frown he placed his hand on the child's forehead, running his thumb over one of the dark brows. Potter should wake up, at least long enough to take the next potions and to get a bit of soup into him again.

"Come on child." He quietly said, unconsciously continuing to run his thumb over the dark brow. "You need to wake up … open your eyes, child. Come now, open your eyes … I know you can hear me. Your pulse and breathing have changed, so I know that you are waking up. Just open your eyes."

The voice was agonizingly familiar and yet something was missing from it, but for the life of him, Harry couldn't tell what it was that was missing while at the same time it sounded so familiar comforting. He fought through the dizziness that filled his brain and tried to analyze what exactly was wrong with the voice that he almost recognized.

Trying to open his eyes he tried to listen harder to the words that told him to wake up fully, something he wasn't sure he really wanted. He was thirsty and his tongue felt as if it was twice as large as it should be while his lips seemed numb and somehow didn't want to obey him completely, but still he neither recognized the voice, nor could he open his eyes.

"That's it, child." The voice quietly said. "Just open your eyes. I need you awake, for a moment at least."

He tried to sit up, but immediately the dizziness in his head overtook his curiosity and someone was placing a cool washcloth on his forehead, increasing the pressure when he tried to fight the touch for a moment. "No, you won't get up right now." The voice gently reprimanded. "You are going to stay in a horizontal position for a little while longer, child. At least long enough until I can be sure you won't pass out again."

Well - it was Snape, he now realized while getting more and more aware of his surroundings, it was Snape, once again, not the Darkmaster.

Or was it the Darkmaster? Weren't those two one and the same person?

But if it was Snape, then there definitely was something wrong with the man Harry thought and tried to open his eyes once more, trying to see the person that belonged to the voice, squinting through the accumulated gunk that was gluing his eyelashes together and he finally realized _what_ it was that was so wrong with his most hated professor's voice.

He sounded almost gentle … and there it was again, that _'child'_ … but where was the sarcasm and the hatred? The bitterness?

"Whos 's 'rong …" He barely managed to squeeze out around his numb lips and swollen and dry tongue.

A deep chuckle greeted his efforts followed by a smirking and a headshake of the man. "Eloquent as ever, Potter."

_'Ah, now I recognize that voice.'_ Harry couldn't help thinking while the Potions Master helped him sitting up a bit, leaning against the pillows. _'That's much better. So hell isn't freezing over, after all.'_

"Here, do not try to talk." Snape then said, holding a glass at his lips. "Just swallow a few sips of water for me. It is plain water, nothing else."

Just what he needed, something to drink, and greedily he did just that, drinking, as much and as quickly as possible – just to have Snape taking away the glass a moment later.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The boy, for once in his life, did as he was told and just drank. So hastily and greedily however, that he nearly chocked on the water and with another headshake he took the glass away.

"Slow down, Potter, the water is not going anywhere." He growled.

Of course the blasted brat had noticed that something was wrong, his confusion written all over his face and his question had proved that, and he just couldn't allow himself to lose his reputation.

"No need to choke yourself to death and waste all of my work at brewing those potions for you." He said, covering his earlier kind words with the now harsh ones while he removed the glass from the boy's lips and reached over to take the cool wet flannel that still lay on the nightstand where he had placed it earlier and gently cleaned the boy's face and eyes.

Snape sat down on the edge of the large bed and unconsciously straightened out the thick dark blue comforter, tucking it up around the thin waist tightly – whatever reason for he did this.

"Are you in pain, Potter?" He raised one eyebrow in question and waited patiently for some response.

"No, sir." Came the answer a few moments later and he could see that it simply was a lie. A good one, one he barely recognized, if it were not for the boy's furrowed eyebrows and too quick and shallow breathes.

"What exactly do you remember concerning what happened yesterday afternoon?" He asked, reaching for the glass of water and once more holding it at the boy's lips.

"Not much." Potter just said after taking a few more sips, looking aside again and he knew immediately that the boy lied – again.

"Those seizures, how often do they happen generally?" He simply asked, suppressing the sigh of frustration he wanted to give away. How was he supposed to help the boy if he constantly kept informations about his health from him?

"Sometimes." The brat answered.

"How often _is _sometimes?" Snape asked, growling. He just needed to know more.

"Sometimes." The idiot child repeated, so quietly he barely could understand him. "Once a month, maybe. Or once a few months, sometimes."

"You have had two of those since you are here now, Potter." He said. "Allow me the guess, but your aunt didn't take you for a medical check up and so you don't know what the cause of them is?"

Well, he could have spared himself the bother questioning this particular question, Potter simply shook his head, and honestly, he had known the answer already anyway.

He still didn't understand. Snape hadn't ridiculed him for the most part, for which he was grateful, but which also left him more than a little puzzled. The Professor _he_ knew was a bitter and cruel man with little regard to the feelings of others and even less tact. _This_ Snape however confused the hell out of him. He was being … well, for the loss of a better word … _nice,_ and Harry didn't really know how to react.

And then his questions …

Somehow he had the feeling that Snape knew something he, Harry, didn't … and somehow he had the feeling that Snape didn't want him to know either, that maybe …

Maybe his condition was worse than he had thought? Maybe he was worse than Snape wanted to admit? Maybe he would …

Harry swallowed, trying to calm his panic rising from his hazy state.

"Please, sir, what's wrong with me?" He managed to ask, wondering why he even cared. He of all people knew best what his uncle had done and that he was lucky he even was alive still. But then – he had been rescued, but for what? To die now anyway? "Please, I promise I'll be good and I'll be quiet, if you just tell me what's wrong."

Snape frowned.

He should have known. Potter wasn't stupid, Potter actually was far more intelligent than he ever had given him credit for and he should have known that the brat would find out that something was wrong if he behaved like a worried mother hen around him!

Blasted boy!

"You are cold, Potter." He stated, reaching for the thermometer. "Do you feel cold at all?" Of course he had run a diagnostic spell, but he wanted confirmation that the spell's outcome was correct and if a muggle thing did the trick, then be it.

"A bit." The boy for once in his life admitted and he frowned.

"All right, open up." He ordered, having a startled Potter who – for once in his life – did as he was told – again – and opened his mouth. He quickly shoved the thermometer in.

"Bud whad doesh dad …" Potter tried to be articulate while speaking around the thermometer and angrily he glowered at him.

"Quiet, Potter." He growled darkly. "You promised." He made sure that the thermometer was still under the blasted boy's tongue and then he glared at him, that way covering up the worried gaze he regarded him with.

Well, the boy was still drowsy, but considering the condition he had found him in, namely beaten half to death, it was just understandable. The boy was still weak, even with all the potions in his system. Merlin, if he gave him much more potions, he simply would poison Potter. But again – considering the condition he had found the boy in, everything else than the boy still being weak would be a miracle. He had been starved and he had been used as a slave, he had been beaten half to death and he had been raped even. It was only normal that he was still weak. The boy was confused too, sometimes. Right now he had a good moment, but those moments were rare and mostly the boy was just confused. What however was normal too. He was at a strange place, after a terrible emotional and physical trauma. Of course he was confused.

What however worried him greatly, was his slow heartbeat and his slow breathing – if he was not in a panic attack, that was, and the low body temperature.

On the other hand, considering how thin the boy was, it wasn't such a miracle at all. His body simply had shut down his body functions in order to keep him alive. But then there was the nearly constant shivering and the slightly purple fingers.

Narrowing his eyes he reached for the thermometer, but Potter pulled it out first.

"95.7." The brat read while squinging his eyes and then looking up at him nervously. "Isn't that a bit low? Shouldn't I have chills or something, and … I mean …"

"First, the normal body temperature might be 98.6, but the matter of fact is, that the temperature varies between 97.5 to 98.8." Snape growled, taking the thermometer from the boy, trying to not show his worry. When he had taken the boy's temperature earlier, it had been 95.9. "Second, the temperature varies about 1 F in a day's time depending on the activity that you are performing. And normally over just awakening, it is usually a bit lower than normal."

It was – but he had a nearly permanent warming charm on the boy's blanket and the comforter and it wasn't even winter, they were situated in the midst of summer. He shouldn't be _that _cold. But then – well, he knew where it came from. He just had hoped that it wouldn't be that worse already. But he should have known. The fact that he had to cast warming charms at the child's blanket and comforter all the time in the first place, should have told him enough, actually _had_ told him enough, he just hadn't been willing to accept it. The child simply wasn't able to keep up his own body warmth.

"But that low?" The boy quietly asked, his hands playing with the hem of the blanket, his shoulders slumped.

"There is no meat on your bones, Potter, no fat, nothing that would keep you warm." He said, noticing the beginning of another panic attack and he slowly sat onto the edge of the mattress while keeping his voice gentle and low. "You haven't eaten a healthy meal within weeks, if anything at all, and your body does not like this treatment. At the same time your body is exhausted from lack of sleep and excessive strain, not to mention that it has to deal with a lot of injuries, and not only scratches, but serious injuries. Injuries that could have caused your death, Potter. Don't you think that your body has the right to _complain_?"

"But it never has and … I mean …" Potter trailed off and bent forwards, hugging his arms around his mid-section.

Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder blade he started running his thumb over the bent spine, nearly wincing at each single vertebra he felt sticking out sharply under his touch. The boy desperately needed to gain weight, but neither the nutrient potions nor the soup he was feeding him every few hours were enough, not in the long run.

"Do you feel anything else than being cold and tired?" He asked. "And the truth would be preferable this time. False heroism will get us nowhere."

"Just still hurt." The boy mumbled after what seemed to be an eternity but probably were only seconds. "Like after a really rough Quidditch practice. But … but I … I haven't done anything, nothing, and …"

He leaned forwards a bit, his hand still laying on Potter's shoulder blade, simply keeping it there without moving it, resting, waiting until the boy regained control over himself and his emotions. He could understand that he was frightened, that he was worried. _He _was worried too, and he was not the one who would die. He could feel the boy trying to take calming breathes underneath his resting hand on his shoulder blade, but the panic still was gnawing at the edges of the child's awareness. And the child didn't even know yet that he was to die.

"I will bring you something to drink." Snape said, pushing Harry back against the pillows. "For now, I think it best that you stay still and rest."

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The Potions Master takes action and a known face appears_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too ... thank you ...


	15. discussions, plans and actions

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably … he belongs to J. K. Rowling … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Note:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Added Note:**

I am sure that some of you will be happy to see an old face here, while maybe others will be outraged at the appearance of VanHarkins, thinking that he didn't belong into this story here. But well – I quite like him and I simply couldn't resist getting him in, so – I do hope you won't kill me for this …

I also am happy to tell you that - if you are interested - then you might be able to visit my blog and my ff-readers group where you might either just look at some pictures I've created to my stories here or to give comments and I hope that you will enjoy both sites which I will introduce to you on my profile as here I won't be able to insert a link …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He leaned forwards a bit, placing his hand on Potter's shoulder blade, simply keeping it there without moving it, resting, waiting__, until the boy regained control over himself and his emotions. He could understand that he was frightened, that he was worried. He was worried too, and he was not the one who would die. He could feel the boy trying to take calming breathes underneath his resting hand on his shoulder blade, but the panic still was gnawing at the edges of the child's awareness. And the child didn't even know yet that he was to die._

_"I will bring you something to drink." Snape said, pushing Harry back against the pillows. "For now, I think it best that you stay still and rest."_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter fifteen**

**Discussions, plans and actions**

**Wednesday**

"Professor Snape!" Jason's voice sounded surprised, but pleasantly so and he knew that the boy really was pleased to see him, that he didn't just play the act. He didn't have the animosity with his Slytherins he had with the students from other houses. The reason for that was simple: he always had been there for them when no other one had. And it was this way even until after they had graduated. "What can I do for you?" Jason Cartier asked, getting up from his chair behind the desk he had been sitting at and coming closer.

"I need a favor of you, Jason." He said. "I do not wish to discuss this on the floo however. Are you free to floo over right now?"

"Give me ten minutes, Professor, then I will be free for you." The boy said without further questions and explanations, a trait he deeply valued on his Slytherins. They acted if necessary, and quickly so while using their brains too, without making a fuss or a lot of words. They accepted situations as they were and then did what was necessary.

"Alright, I will lower the wards around my manor temporarily so you will be able to come through without the thread of facing death." With those words he pulled his head from the floo and got up, drawing his wand. It was still the same wand he had purchased 1971 when he had been eleven and had started Hogwarts. He had other wands of course, unregistered wands. He for example never had used this wand when he had been visiting a Death Eater meeting, and he never had used this wand to do any of the things the Dark Lord had demanded of him.

But this first wand, the black ebony one, was still the one with which he gained the best results.

While waving the wand, feeling the warm wood underneath his fingers, feeling the dragon heart string pulsating underneath his fingers, he murmured some strings in Latin, undoing the wards he had on his floo so Jason could step through without running the risk of being turned to ashes in the floo.

Yes – he had to admit that the Princes as well as the Snapes always had been a bit paranoid when it came to their wards and he knew that not even Dumbledore would be able to breach them if he had set them against the headmaster as well – what he would quite do the moment Jason had left and he had reestablished them to their full capacity.

Only a few moments later he watched the fire flare and Jason stepped through.

He immediately waved his wand and set the temporary wards that would keep unwanted visitors from coming through until he had recast the original wards. Then he turned to greet his ex-student.

"Good morning, Jason." He said, looking the boy over and with some satisfaction he noticed that he seemed to be well. "I do apologize for disturbing you, but I do need your help."

"Good morning, Professor Snape." The boy answered, giving him one of his rare smiles. "And it really is no problem. What's wrong? You look tired."

"Take a seat." Snape said, pointing towards one of the armchairs in the parlor and turned to pour tea into two cups at the side table. Turning back to Jason he reached one of them at the boy and took a seat by himself.

"I have to admit that, actually I _am_ tired." He then admitted, something he rarely did. "However, that is not important right now. What is important however, I have Potter here, and I need to gain complete guardianship over him – quickly and discreetly. It has to be done before Dumbledore will notice what happened and I need it being too late for him to do anything against it the moment he finally realizes."

"Potter?" Jason asked surprised. "Forgive my curiosity, Professor, but why would you need complete guardianship over Potter?"

"He has been abused." He simply said with a sigh, knowing that Jason would have to know about it anyway if he wanted this done successfully. "For a long time and badly so. I am not even sure if he will survive the next few days, let alone the next few years as his magical core is affected. The problem is – Dumbledore wants to continue using him as a weapon in his war against the Dark Lord."

"I am surprised, I have to admit." Jason said, his smile replaced by a dark glare and his voice sounding harsh and resolute now. Well, he had known that he could depend on the boy. Jason had been one of his abused students himself, and now he worked at the department for child welfare. "I always thought that Potter was Dumbledore's darling. And I always thought that Potter would live the life of a spoiled prince."

"We all thought so." Snape answered, running his hand over his face. "And we all could not have been more wrong. I guess you would like to have a look at the boy and the medical report I started since I have him here at Prince Manor?"

"Actually, yes." Jason nodded his head.

"I will show you to his room before you leave." With a flick of his wand he summoned the scroll of parchment he had started since he had taken Potter from his relatives and reached it towards Jason, waiting patiently while the boy studied it carefully.

When Jason finally looked up at him he could see the grim expression on his face.

"I have only one question, Professor." The boy then said. "Are you sure you want to do this? Are you _absolutely_ sure that you want to have Potter? It is Potter of all people we are speaking here about and the animosity between the two of you is legendary."

"You should know me better than that, Jason." Snape growled at the young man. "I would not have asked you over for this if I were not sure. And before you ask, yes, I did have enough time to think it over as I have been in contact with the boy before I have taken him out of that – _place_ – one might call a home."

"And Potter?"

"I cannot give you an answer to this question." The Potions Master answered, his voice concerned. "At the present time the boy's conscious awareness is limited to a few short moments a day. He rarely is in a condition to _understand_ _anything _that is going on around him, let alone to understand what exactly I am explaining to him. If he has a good moment, then I can talk to him and he understands. If he has a bad moment, then I even have trouble keeping him calm. I do however not have the time to wait much longer as Dumbledore already wants to take him to the Weasleys."

"That fool!" Jason growled. "They only would suffocate him."

"Exactly."

The boy took a sip from his tea, thinking, taking a few moments during which he looked into the cup of tea as if searching something within, but then he looked back up at him.

"Well, I think it is possible." He said. "Even without the usual ministry procedure and within the hour. You however will have to be aware of a few things first."

"Continue." Snape nodded.

"First, for a full guardianship without anyone being able to go against it, you will have to adopt Potter. And it has to be a blood adoption. If Potter however is not aware of the adoption at the time it is fulfilled, his blood cannot be used, it simply wouldn't work. Yours can however, and it will be of no consequence if Potter is aware of the adoption or not, if his blood is used too or not – as long as your intentions are to the boy's best interests. If you adopt him, using your blood, it will be as if he were your son by blood, then your blood is flowing through his veins."

"Will it affect his illness in any way?" Snape asked, leaning back in his armchair and regarding Jason with his dark eyes thoughtfully.

"No." The boy answered. "Regrettably not. Neither will it stable his core nor will it help with his injuries. It might be – it won't be sure, mind you – but it might be, that due to the blood adoption his appearance might change slightly, but it won't affect his health."

Snape simply nodded his acceptance and gestured to the young wizard to continue.

"Second, from your report, I take it that you already have started to bond with Potter." He said, and Snape again nodded, even if only reluctantly, causing Jason to give a short smirk before he got serious again. "The adoption will deepen the bond, and quickly so. You will have to be aware of the fact that, even if Potter's blood isn't used also, soon you will feel paternal emotions and instincts. And you also will have to be aware that – at one point or another – Potter will die, never mind what. And if this happens, you will suffer the same as each and every father would suffer if his son died. Are you really sure that you want to go through this, Professor? It would affect your life permanently. The death of a child won't pass on you without leaving marks on you."

"I do know this, Jason, and again, I would not have asked you over for this if I were not ready – with all the consequences." Snape answered darkly. He had thought about that earlier, but well – the bond had already started and well, if he could help the dying child with this, then he would do this, then he would go through this. He didn't like it, but he was ready.

"Well, then there is only one thing left." Jason nodded his head. That was the reason why he always had trusted the professor. Exactly _that _was the reason as to why all his Slytherins trusted him and as to why they always would stand behind him, never mind what. He cared. And he was ready to go all lengths in order to keep them safe and healthy at mind and body, to keep them out of harms ways and alive, even if it meant that he himself would have to suffer. "You will need a witness. And it has to be a witness that is of age, close to you and ready to take over if necessary."

Snape got off his armchair, wordlessly, and went over to the fireplace. Taking the pot with the floo powder from the mantelpiece he threw a handful into the fire and then knelt down, sticking his head into the now green flames while calling out "VanHarkins Estate", hoping that Herbaceous would be at home.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Severus!" A deep voice called out and Snape turned his gaze towards the source of that voice, nearly smiling at the tall and dark man that quickly came over, kneeling in front of the fireplace. "Finally. I have already wondered when you would come over."

"I am not about to come over, Herbaceous." He said. "I however need you here at Prince Manor for an hour or two."

"Of course." The man immediately said. "So, would you get that head of yours out of that floo, or would you like me stepping on it?"

Well, as it seemed Herbaceous knew that he had meant right now, even if he had not said so, and with a smirk he pulled his head back and stood, making room for the other man to come over.

"What has happened to your wards, you overgrown and paranoid dungeons bat?" Herbaceous asked, having felt the change in them. Well, as his closest friend he was the only one aside from Dumbledore and Poppy who had access to his manor and he never before had had to change the wards for him. This time however the wards had been changed because of Jason coming through them earlier and Herbaceous had felt the change immediately.

He simply extended his hands into the direction of the sitting arrangement in the parlor where Jason was getting to his feet at the moment, waiting patiently for him to bring the new guest over and to introduce them.

"Jason Cartier." He introduced the young wizard to Herbaceous. "Department of child welfare. This is Herbaceous VanHarkins. You have said it had to be a person close to me, so well, Mr. VanHarkins is my oldest and closest friend. I am sure that will do, don't you think?"

"I am sure it will, Professor." Jason answered with a satisfied expression on his face. "Good morning, Mr. VanHarkins. I take it you do not know the reason for this invitation?"

"Actually – no." Herbaceous answered with a grin. "But well, I am used to such raids from Severus."

"Maybe I will go and have a look at the boy while you explain the situation to Mr. VanHarkins, Professor?"

Snape was unsure for a moment, not knowing how Potter would react to Jason's presence, but then he nodded. Jason was a social worker who worked with abused children since two years now. He would know what he had to do and how to react to a panic attack.

"Zilly." He softly called out and Herbaceous lifted his eyebrow. Well, he had to admit that it _was_ a rare occasion that he called his house elf and Herbaceous knew that.

"Yes, Master Severus?" The small creature asked upon appearing with his usual soft 'pop', smiling at him happily. The blasted thing actually seemed to be glad upon being called so often lately.

"Would you please show Mr. Cartier to Mr. Potter's room, Zilly?"

"Of course, Master Severus." Zilly answered and without further hesitance gripped the younger wizard's hand and disappeared with him with another soft 'pop'.

"Don't tell me you have Harry Potter here at your manor and want to adopt him." Herbaceous said, curiously lifting his eyebrow at him.

"Actually – I do." Snape answered, pouring a third cup of tea and reaching it towards his old friend.

"Well, then be it." Was all the dark clad wizard answered, taking the cup from the other dark clad wizard. "I will be honored acting as your witness."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Jason appeared in front of the door that would lead to Potter's room and he stood there for a moment, schooling his appearance into calmness encase the boy behind the door was awake. It wouldn't do any good if he would startle and frighten him.

Well, he wasn't as forbidding as was Professor Snape. And he long ago had learned that friendlier clothes such as a blue Jeans and a green shirt for example would frighten abused children less than a black clad figure. So he long ago had started wearing more colorful clothes. Even if he never would resort to as colorful clothes as Dumbledore and he shuddered at that thought.

Silently he opened the door and stepped inside.

A quick glance showed him a wardrobe, shelves, a desk with a comfortable chair in front of it and a large bed lining the walls of the room. An armchair was placed beside the bed and it was clear that the Professor had been sitting in it lately, the open book that laid there was proof enough. The colors of the room were a mixture of dark and light shades of brown, and even the soft rugs and the long curtains lining the window were of a warm creamy color.

The window was large, allowing bright sunlight into the room and he could see that the view over the grounds was great, showing a large lawn with a small pond that brought forth a small stream, paths that were covered with pebbles and led over the small stream at one point, one of them leading towards a small forest of some kind. Trees were scattered around the lawn and comfortable benches were placed along the paths.

He cast a second glance through the room.

The furniture within the room seemed to be old, if well cared for, maybe remnants of the late 17th or the early 18th century – but really, _really_ well cared for. Well, he always had known that Professor Snape had a knack for old things, one had to look at his clothes only, they too seemed to be remnants from the past century.

The boy itself was laying on the large bed to his left and he quietly went over, looking down, startled. He had read the professor's report, and of course he had read it carefully, but he nevertheless had not been prepared for the actual sight of the boy laying there in front of him.

Professor Snape had stated in his report that the boy was too thin, only skin and bones, but he had not thought he would look that skeletal and for a moment he wondered if the boy even was alive still. But after watching the bruised chest slowly rising and falling for a few moments – well, the boy was still alive.

Pulling out his wand he hardened his gaze and then cast a diagnostic spell by himself. He knew already what it would show him as Professor Snape was neither a man that tended to exaggeration nor to understatements. He always stated the facts in his reports as they were, but he nevertheless had to cast it and waiting until the quill that had appeared together with a piece of parchment finally stopped scribbling frantically on said parchment, he lowered his head to one side and watched the boy carefully.

Who would have thought such? Who would have thought that Potter of all people was abused? The savior of the wizarding world? The Boy Who Lived? Dumbledore's Darling?

But then – it only made sense. Dumbledore never had cared, not really, not as he should anyway, and surely not about the Slytherins. And the headmaster using Potter as a weapon in this upcoming war against the Dark Lord, it only made sense too. If Potter succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord again, and Dumbledore had been the one to have brought forth that boy, then the old wizard would have a very good position. Even the Minister for Magic would be a servant only compared to Dumbledore then.

Sighing he took the parchment, allowing the quill to disappear and he read through the diagnostic report with a grim face.

Well, one thing was clear – Potter couldn't go back to his relatives. And another thing was clear too – Potter would die, and he would die soon. So – yes, it was a reasonable thing to do, allowing Professor Snape to adopt Potter, and quickly so. He wouldn't be in too much trouble for this, and the trouble he would be in, he easily would be able to deal with that, he was a Slytherin after all.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Entering the room Snape could see a grim and resolute expression on Jason's face and he knew that the younger wizard had seen what he had needed to see in order to make this working, even with the approval of the ministry.

Jason turned the moment they entered and he nodded, pulling out a small vial from his robes. Just as he, the Potions Master had the most important potions in the pockets of his robes all the time, Jason as a child welfare worker that arranged adoptions, carried the potions required for such with him too, as it seemed, and he gave a nod in reply.

He was ready.

Stepping closer he accepted the small silver dagger Jason reached towards him wordlessly and he passed the small weapon towards Herbaceous who, as the witness, would have to make the small cut that would produce the required blood. Herbaceous too accepted the small dagger and then reached out his other hand, silently asking the Potions Master for permission and Snape lifted his left hand, placed it into Herbaceous' outstretched one, watching his friend making a small and quick cut over the tip of his forefinger, accepting the man squeezing three drops of blood into the vial Jason held out.

He didn't bother healing the small cut, knowing it simply hadn't to be done right now, and watched Jason swirling the clear liquid that slowly turned red with his blood. Jason looked at him questioningly for one moment more and again he gave a curt nod. He wouldn't retreat now. It would be his last chance doing so, but he wouldn't. He had made his mind up and he would pull through.

Well, the first, and the easy part was over and now would come the more difficult part. Namely waking Potter – the boy, and getting him to drink the potion. If he were lucky, then the boy would have a good moment and he would be able to explain things to him, to even gain the boy's permission to use his own blood for this adoption too. But if he weren't, then the boy would be in no state to understand what was going on and he only could hope that he wouldn't have to face a panic attack right then. But considering the fact that the boy would see Jason as well as Herbaceous, two strangers, he probably would.

Slowly he sat onto the edge of the bed and placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Potter?" He quietly said. "It is time to wake up."

Well, of course the boy didn't wake up. He hadn't been successful in waking him upon his first attempt for the last times and of course he wouldn't be able doing so now.

"Come now, child, wake up." He gently continued, taking hold of the boy's shoulders and pulling his upper body up, placing more pillows into the boy's back before allowing him to lean back against them. "I need you awake for a moment, child. That's it, just open your eyes, child. Do not be startled, we have two visitors. They won't harm you however, you are still safe here. Come now, child, open your eyes, wake up fully."

Well, as it seemed he wasn't lucky and the boy didn't even wake up fully, trying to get away from him in his half-awake state, trying to curl into a small ball of self-protection, trying to cover his face with his arms and Snape slowly inched closer on the bed, reaching out and gently he gathered the boy to him.

"Hush, child, no." He gently whispered when the boy started to actually fight him in his fear induced state, kicking out and trying to get his arms free to cover his face with them. "You are still safe here. No one will hurt you here, just stop fighting me, I won't hurt you, you are safe, child. Come now, wake up fully, open your eyes."

"No, please!" The boy gasped, still trying to cover back from him, trying to get free. "Please … don't … no … please …"

He didn't like having to restrain the frightened child, but he knew that if he didn't then the boy only would hurt himself, hitting his arms against the wall or the headboard accidentally and he slipped behind the boy, easily restraining the boy's arms while continuing to talk quietly to him, one strong arm holding the boy against his chest and the other gently running through the sweat soaked hair in a calming manner that slowly, ever so slowly, got through to the teen.

"Hush, child." He whispered. "It's me, Snape, Professor Snape. I won't hurt you, you are safe here, child, I promise. Just open your eyes and wake up fully."

The boy in his arms still whimpered, flashbacks from this abominable uncle of his looming over him like a dementor and he knew that the boy wouldn't calm down completely without a calming potion. So taking one of the small vials from the nightstand he uncorked it and shifting the boy in his arms so he could feed him the potion he placed the vial at the boy's lips and tilted the small glass bottle, pouring the potion down the child's throat, massaging the area to help the boy swallowing it down without fearing he would suffocate added to the fears he already suffered from.

Hearing the sound of soft waves rolling over a beach caused him to look up momentarily and he could see Herbaceous waving his wand, creating the image of waves sparkling in sunlight and rolling over the soft brown wall opposite the bed like over a beach, shrugging his shoulders when he noticed the Potions Master's gaze on him. Snape however just inclined his head towards his old friend that never ceased to amaze him.

"Easy now, child." He whispered while doing so. "It only is a calming potion, nothing that will harm you. You will be quite fine, child, just trust me. Open your eyes and look at me, come now, you can do this, it is alright, just open your eyes and look at me."

Well, the blasted boy just didn't.

He visibly relaxed and began to take deep shuddering breaths as he slowly calmed down, trying to bring himself under control, but he didn't open his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly instead, and Snape sighed, knowing that despite that he tried to calm himself, he prepared himself for the pain a beating would bring.

"Hush, child. It is alright." He whispered. "I need you aware for a moment, can you do this for me, child?"

Well, as it seemed, the boy couldn't.

"No … please … I'll be good … I promise …" The boy whispered instead, in a voice so damn pleading and broken that the Potions Master had to grit his teeth to keep from showing his emotions. Never mind if Jason once had been one of his Slytherins and that for knew him quite well, and never mind if Herbaceous was his closest friend and knew him quite as well, and for a long time, he wouldn't show his emotions in front of them.

"It's quite fine." He continued, reaching out his hand for the vial Jason had at the ready for him. The boy just was in no state to give his consent for this and he simply would have to do this now and explain it later, hoping the boy would understand, hoping the child would not feel betrayed. "This is an adoption potion, child – Harry. It will give me full guardianship over you and you will be mine then."

He placed the vial at the boy's lips, dipping it just as he had done with the calming draught and poured the potion down the child's throat, massaging the potion down while still trying to reassure the boy that had ceased his murmuring but now was sobbing silently. He barely was aware of Jason murmuring low words in Latin while waving his wand over the two of them. He even barely registered the warmth that settled over him, the soft humming sound that surrounded them and the soft glowering that emanated from them for a short moment before leaving the room in a barely noticeable soft light.

"You never again will have to go back there, or anywhere else you do not wish to go to without my consent." He said, reaching the vial back to Jason who took it wordlessly. He didn't notice the soft humming ceasing, slowly fading away until a peaceful silence settled upon the room. "I promised you a place here at Prince Manor and that way I ensure that you have it, never mind what. No one will be able to take you away now. I will be able to protect you fully, you will be quite safe with me, I promise."

He didn't notice the warmth that stayed, having seeped into his very being, into his own core, into his soul and into his heart, into his veins and into his mind, into his awareness, leaving him strangely peaceful and calm. What he however noticed was the child's restless movements stilling, was the child's desperate but silent sobbing calming, and was the ragged and frightened breathing evening out.

The boy had fallen asleep within his arms.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Severus will have to do another visit to the room of requirement and he will be telling Harry that he is a Snape now._

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	16. back in the room

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He didn't notice the warmth that stayed, having seeped into his very being, into his own core, into his soul and into his heart, into his veins and into his mind, into his awareness, leaving him strangely peaceful and calm. What he however noticed was the child's restless movements stilling, was the child's desperate but silent sobbing calming and the ragged and frightened breathing even out. _

_The boy had fallen asleep within his arms._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter sixteen**

**Back in the room**

**Thursday**

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I do not care, Granger, I want to know who the Darkmaster is_

_**Hermy**__: and I won't tell you, it's private. _

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I went through the seventh year Slytherins, and there are not too much of them who could be the Darkmaster, you know? I don't think that he really is a seventh year Slytherin. _

_**Hermy**__: actually – he IS a Slytherin_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I don't know how stu-pid you are, Granger, but Potter is your friend and you shouldn't trust people so easily. He hasn't been here since Friday. He's been online on Saturday, but not in the room. Potter too has been online on Saturday, but not in the room. Both are missing since Saturday _

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: and now we have Thursday. It's nearly a week_

_**Hermy**__: I do know this_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: and yet you don't seem to care. Don't you think that Potter has enough on his plate without the Darkmaster bothering him?_

_**Hermy**__: he doesn't bother him, he's quite safe with him_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: so he isn't at his uncle's house anymore? So he's with the Darkmaster?_

_**Hermy**__: yes – at least I guess so_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: how so?_

_**Hermy**__: the Darkmaster got him from his aunt and uncle's house – at least I hope that what's happened_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: so I've been right, and Potter has been abused_

_**Hermy**__: I don't know, I don't know anything aside from Harry being with him, and I worry as much as you do, believe me_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: then tell me who the Darkmaster is, I know that you know who he is_

_**Hermy**__: and I told you that I can't tell you._

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: you know what, Granger? Right now I would like visiting and hexing you to Pluto and back again!_

_**Hermy**__: yes, I can imagine. Listen, I worry as much as you, and I wonder as much as you what has happened to Harry, but you will have to trust me that the Darkmaster won't harm Harry. He's absolutely safe with him. IF he's with him_

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He still was sitting in the chair beside Potter's bed – as he did since Jason and Herbaceous both had left. He had reestablished the original wards with the only exception that he excluded Dumbledore from them, and then he had come upstairs and sat beside the bed like he did so often lately, watching over the boy.

Over the boy, over Potter, over his son.

His son.

He huffed.

He really was a father now, something he never had thought would happen within this life of his, something he never even had _wanted_ in the first place. He wasn't a father and neither was he a person meant to be a father. He was an old and bitter man, a snarky and sarcastic, _sadistic_ bastard even, but not a person meant to be a father.

Once more he huffed.

And yet – it had happened. He _was_ a father.

He didn't believe that the words Jason had spoken earlier really would come true.

Well, yes – he did care, he had to admit, as strange as it might sound to him. He did care about Potter, but well – just because he had seen how wrong he had been and just because he'd had enough time communicating with Potter for the past two weeks, even if only in a chat room. But surely he wouldn't care enough for feeling paternal emotions one day.

He surely wouldn't be as devasted as Granger or Weasley if Potter …

Granger!

With a groan he ran his hand through his hair.

How could he have been so stupid and forgotten about Granger? The know-it-all surely was frantic with worry by now.

Calling for his house elf and asking the small creature to watch the boy for a while he hastily went towards his library and entered, quickly went to his desk and turned on the computer. For a moment he wondered why he had asked Zilly to watch over the boy, Potter surely would be able to handle ten or fifteen minutes alone, without being watched, and he frowned at himself.

Giving his password he entered the room of requirement.

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 07:14 pm]_

_[Darkmaster gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening … want a cup of tea? … |_|) …_

_**Hermy**__: Darkmaster! _

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: you!_

_**Hermy**__: I'm so glad you're here!_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: you better give a few answers right now, or I'll swear, I'll find out who you are and make your life back at Hogwarts miserable!_

_**Hermy**__: slythadrian!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Nice to see you too, slythadrian, thank you._

Well, seeing as it was only a quarter past seven, and that for only Granger and Adrian Pucey were in the room beside of him now, it was clear whom the boy meant with his attack – and he quite wondered what that was about. Pucey seemed more than just angry. He seemed fury, nearly panicky.

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: shut up, you bastard and tell me where Potter is_

_[__slythadrian is warned by the founders]_

_**founders**__: do not insult the other users, slythadrian, or leave the room_

_**slythadrian**: shut up, founders!_

_**Hermy**__: slythadrian!_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: and don't tell me that you don't have him, Darkmaster_

_**Hermy**__: stop it!_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I mean it, Darkmaster! _

_**Darkmaster**__: Do you think I have abducted him?_

_**slythadrian**__: what have you done with him, you bast-ard? _

_**Hermy**__: just stop it, slythadrian!_

_**Hermy**__: please!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Potter is quite safe with me, slythadrian and he is far better off with me than he has been with his relatives._

_**slythadrian**__: I just want to know what you've done to him!_

_**slythadrian**__: he has enough on his plate without being in trouble with you!_

_**Hermy**__: stop it, slythadrian, or I'll mute you!_

_**slythadrian**__: just think, Hermy!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Leave it be, Hermy._

_**Darkmaster**__: Did you even read what I have written, slythadrian?_

_**slythadrian**__: both of them are away since six days now and Potter never was away for six days and he's been bad enough lately!_

_**Hermy**__: slythadrian!_

_**slythadrian**__: no!_

_**Darkmaster**__: Would you please calm down, slythadrian, so you can pay attention to what I am writing here?_

_**slythadrian**__: you just tell me where Potter is!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I already have told you where Potter is, slythadrian._

_**Darkmaster**__: He resides with me at the present time._

_**Hermy**__: how is he, Darkmaster?_

_**Darkmaster**__: he is as fine as one can be after two rather rough weeks with those relatives of his._

_**Hermy**__: but he'll be fine?_

_**Darkmaster**__: He will be as fine as possible._

_**Hermy**__: that doesn't answer my question, sir._

_**Darkmaster**__: And I surely will not betray his trust in me. I promised him to keep his secrets safe and I will do so._

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: what? sir?_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: did you call him … SIR, Hermy?_

_**Hermy**__: uhm …_

_**Darkmaster**__: ^.~_

_**Hermy**__: well …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, Mr. Pucey, Miss Granger indeed did call me 'sir'. And I am sure that you finally will want to calm down if you do not wish to get into trouble with your head of house. _

There was silence for some time, neither Granger nor Adrian writing anything and he could imagine the boy's face turning pale and shocked while he started realizing who he was and what he had called him earlier in his outburst.

What he wondered about however, was why _Adrian_ was so worried over Potter in the first place until it led to such an outburst. Adrian was a Slytherin after all and Adrian never had been a friend of Potter's. He already knew that Adrian had known something, but as it seemed, the boy had known more than he had thought, and yet – he was sure that Potter and Adrian never had had those private dialogues he, Snape, had had with the Gryffindor. So Adrian only had read the signs, the signs he, Snape, should have been able to read as well – but hadn't.

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: uhm …_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: sorry, sir …_

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I mean … _

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to be so disrespectful. I just didn't know that it was you, sir._

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: I just was worried and I thought you … well … dunno … _

_**Darkmaster**__: I would cease that babbling, Mr. Pucey, before you make a fool of yourself._

_**s**__**lythadrian**__: uhm … alright, sir … sorry still …_

_**Darkmaster**__: Just know that right now Potter is safe at my manor and that he will be as fine as will be possible._

_**Hermy**__: your words indicate that something's wrong with Harry, Professor_

_**Darkmaster**__: And I already told you that I won't answer you this question, Miss Granger. You will have to trust me in this. _

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"I do thank you, Zilly." Snape quietly said upon entering the boy's room. "And I have to apologize for asking so much of you lately."

"Oh, but Zilly is glad to be of service to Master Severus." The small house elf answered.

"I do know this, and I nevertheless do thank you." The Potions Master sat back into the chair he had left half an hour earlier.

"Master Severus is concerned about young Master." Zilly simply stated.

"I have to admit that – yes, I indeed am." Snape answered with a small sigh before running his hand over his face tiredly.

Harry lay in his bed, silently, without moving, listening to the sound of Snape's dark and velvet voice that still sounded so much like the Darkmaster. But then – he _was_ the Darkmaster. Snape was the Darkmaster. The man sounded tired, but for once not sarcastic, and he sounded concerned, but for once not angry – which was unexpected and he tried to find out his own feelings towards Snape.

Was he angry at him for being the Darkmaster? Snape had deceived him - yes. He had betrayed him – yes. He surely never would have told him anything if he had known that it was Snape. And he surely never would have started liking him, even daring calling him a friend had he known that it was Snape.

Snape.

He sounded kind when talking with his house elf, and he had apologized to his house elf, had thanked him for his service. No really evil person would do such a thing. And Snape had been kind to him too, had been gentle and he had held him even. And earlier, he wasn't really sure, but he thought that the man had been angry on his behalf. Not at him, but on his behalf. And that was strange too.

But could he really trust Snape? Could he really … well, alright, _that_ was a stupid question, and he had to admit that. Of course he could trust Snape. Snape always had kept him alive, and he always had kept him safe. He always had made his potions lessons a living hell, but he always had kept him safe. And he … again he wasn't completely sure … but Snape had told him that he would take him. And he had told him that he didn't hate him, that he would protect him.

The Darkmaster had said the same, and he had kept his promise. He had come and he had taken him from the Dursleys, and he … well, _Snape_ _was_ _the Darkmaster, get it in this blasted head of yours!_ So it had been Snape who had taken him from the Dursleys. And it had been Snape who …

So yes, he guessed he could trust Snape. Snape had taken him from there, and Snape had looked after him. He remembered that he rarely had been alone upon awakening since he was here. As strange as it was, but Snape always had been there then, and he always had comforted him. Snape also never had called him stupid or a bother or a sissy for the trouble he caused him … he never had held it against him that he had cried in the man's presence earlier … and Snape had promised him …

Frowning he remembered a really strange dream. He remembered Snape's voice, warmth, a soft light and a soft humming and …

He suddenly felt something cool on his forehead and startled he jerked back, slamming his head against the headboard.

"Oww." He made, wincing at the unexpected pain. He opened his eyes and saw the person that had preoccupied his thoughts just a moment ago, Snape, sitting next to him, holding a damp flannel and a glass of water and – without being able to explain why, he all of a sudden found a lump form in his throat and quickly tried to swallow past it.

It was Snape, but it was the Darkmaster at the same time. Snape had written with him during all those nights. It had been the Darkmaster that had made him seeing reason – a bit at least – during those private dialogues, but it had been Snape as well who had taken the time writing with him, who had scolded him for blaming himself and for denying that he was … well, that what he had said. And it had been Snape who had worried about him, who had asked him if he could help, who had made him writing messages as often as possible and who had reminded him that his last message had been too long ago for his liking, who had shown him that he not only had read the notes he had sent, but that he actually had waited for them, most likely worried. And it had been Snape who had come and gotten him out of there, brought him here and made him feel better.

Lifting his eyebrow Snape pulled the boy away from the headboard after he had hit his head and gently ran his fingers over the spot on the back of the boy's head, searching for a lump and he was glad that he found none. Reaching the glass towards the boy's lips he watched the pale face for a moment, worrying over the upcoming conversation while the boy drank from the cold water.

He pressed the cold cloth to Potter's forehead again for a moment, strangely aware that he did the gesture more to calm himself than the boy, while keeping his other hand on the back of the teen's head in case he slammed it backwards again. The brat tended to harm himself, as if he hadn't been harmed enough already.

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

Well, yes – it was evident in each and every reaction Potter showed. He did fear him. And now he expected him to accept the fact that he had adopted him, he, Snape, of all people. So no – it wouldn't be an easy task, this upcoming conversation.

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?" He asked, placing the cloth at the nightstand beside the bed and leaning back.

There was a moment during which the boy seemed to think about the question, but then he shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, sir." He answered, still not looking at him.

"Are you tired?" He asked with a frown. Of course he should have known that the boy would answer with a "fine, sir" instead of the truth. And he doubted that it was the truth, that Potter really felt fine.

"A bit." Potter answered, still looking at his hands that lay atop the blanket.

"Are you still in pain?" He asked.

"No, sir." The boy answered, even if he could tell that the boy actually was. He still didn't dare giving the boy the full potent pain reliever, knowing that too much potions only would drive the fragile body into shock. He gently took the teen's chin and turned his face to him so he would have to look at him and he could feel Potter tensing under his touch.

"Look at me Mr. Potter!" He quietly commanded.

Harry did so, and tried to hold the man's gaze, but it was much too intense – he simply had to drop his eyes. He heard Snape's sigh and suddenly he felt guilty. But for what reason however, Harry was not completely sure.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"What ever for?" Snape asked, but he just didn't have an answer for that.

"For …" For a short moment he wanted to say 'for everything', but he knew that _that_ might sound a bit too melodramatic and he stopped himself before he could make a fool of himself.

"I don't know." He finally said, slightly frustrated with himself.

"Do not get into the pattern of apologizing for things you cannot help or for things that are not your fault." Snape said, nearly knowingly, as if he knew exactly what he had wanted to say originally and Harry frowned. "Like this situation, just for example."

Why was the man saying this? Harry knew that the Weasleys, Remus, Hermione and Dumbledore all would say that it was not his fault too, but Snape also? On the other hand, the Potions Master had never lied to him before. In the contrary, Snape always had been the only one that _never_ had lied to him, as much as it always had hurt what Snape had said to him, he never had lied to him. Why would he start now? Harry decided the safe answer was to not answer at all and just nodded.

"So – _are_ you still in pain?" Snape repeated his question, and he didn't even sound frustrated over the fact that he had to repeat himself. "And the truth would be preferable, Mr. Potter. I won't be angry at you for being in pain seeing that this is not your fault."

"But it is." He couldn't help whispering.

"Any explanation as to why that would be so?" Snape asked and he sighed. He didn't want to talk about this. But he also knew that Snape wouldn't back down, that Snape would persist. Others might have backed down, others wouldn't have gone through the trouble being so persistent, but not Snape and suddenly he was very grateful for the older wizard.

"Because I always get everyone in trouble." He then answered. "Everyone get hurt or killed because of me. Mum, and dad, and then Voldemort, even if he was evil. And Quirrel, Lockhart and … and Sirius. I'm bad and …"

"Enough!" Snape growled, not loud, he didn't scream, Snape never did, but it frightened him nevertheless.

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"Enough!" The Potions Master couldn't help growling after listening to the boy's tirade of self-blaming. "It is enough, Mr. Potter."

He leaned forwards in his seat and locked his dark eyes with the green ones when the boy looked up at him, startled.

"First, you did not deserve any of this, and I already have told you so. Second, you are not bad, Mr. Potter, and I do not ever again want to hear you saying so. Did I make myself absolutely clear?"

The boy blinked at him for a few moments, in shock, or simply unbelieving, he didn't know right now, and he didn't care either right now. Right now he only wanted an affirmative answer from the brat.

Well, of course he knew where the blasted brat had gained _those_ ideas from, and he surely didn't blame the boy for this, but nevertheless he wouldn't allow him going on, on this path of thinking.

"Yes, sir." The boy finally answered and he gave a short nod to acknowledge the answer.

"Good. And third – you killed none of those people, Mr. Potter." He said. "Your parents, both of them, had chosen their own life. They had chosen becoming aurors in the first place, they had chosen to fight the Dark Lord in the first place. It had absolutely nothing to do with you. They alone had made themselves enemies to the Dark Lord. And it had been the Dark Lord who had killed them, not you. It neither had been your decision, nor had it been your intention, nor did you have the power seeing that you have been a year old only. You had no choice in this, the Dark Lord alone had killed your parents, robbing you of your parents. Do you understand this?"

There again was a small pause during which the boy thought and then nodded – reluctantly – and he knew that he didn't really believe him, that it would take him some more such discussions until the boy believed him – if he ever would. But well, as it seemed the child at least had a good moment right now and he not only understood but was able to follow and partake in the conversation.

"Neither have you killed the Dark Lord, seeing as you have defended yourself only." He continued. "It had been him who had cast the killing course, not you. Professor Quirrel already had been dead. He had been a shell used by the Dark Lord and nothing else. You did not kill him nor have you been responsible for his death. It – again – has been the Dark Lord who has used and then killed him. Concerning Lockhart, he has been an idiot who boasted himself with the work done by others, with the success and the credit that was not his. If he had acted like he should, he never would have become the teacher for defense against the dark arts in the first place. He brought his own misery upon himself and he only earned what he deserved. Is that too clear?"

Another few moments of silence, another frustrated sigh from the boy, another reluctant nod and he knew that the child still didn't understand, too brainwashed by his uncle to believe him, Snape, now.

"Concerning the … concerning Sirius Black …" He said, catching himself at the last moment before he said 'the mutt' what surely would have hurt Potter just the more. "Sirius Black had been killed by the dementors, not by you. Albus Dumbledore did not have the right to send two thirteen year old children back in time to face dementors and to safe a man. It never had been your place and you never would have been able to send a patronus strong enough to defeat hundreds of dementors. I have been there, Mr. Potter. I already have told you, that it had taken four adult wizards to take down those dementors. Three teachers and the headmaster. And I do know this, because I have been one of them. Do you finally start to understand, Mr. Potter? It has not – absolutely _not_ – been your fault and nor would you have been able to prevent it in the first place."

Well, the only result of his words was – Potter slumped on the bed defeated.

"So I ask again – are you still in pain?" He asked, trying to keep the impatience he felt out of his voice. It wasn't the boy's fault and he shouldn't add this to all his self-blaming and self-loathing he already suffered from.

"A bit." The boy finally admitted, in a voice that was as miserable as if he would have had to admit a crime that would have gained him a lifelong stay in Azkaban.

"Where?" He simply asked.

"Dunno." Potter answered, his pale cheeks blushing slightly and still gazing at his hands on the blanket. "Everywhere, somehow … but the back and the shoulders are the worst. I guess … kind of …"

"Turn onto your stomach." He ordered, ignoring the half startled and half frightened gaze the boy looked at him with, his own eyes steady on the boy's, silently and calmly demanding obedience.

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Of course Potter would fall asleep before he could tell him of the adoption.

Well, he had to admit, if he really would have been that eager telling him in the first place, then he would have managed, then he wouldn't have held that monologue about the boy's innocence in the deaths around him. Then he wouldn't have ordered the boy to turn onto his stomach to cover all those welts and bruises and cuts that still were there into another dose of healing salve, and then surely he wouldn't have started kneading the boy's tense muscles - if they could be called that. If he really would have been that eager, then he simply would have told him.

Yet – he hadn't.

But then – the boy had needed to hear those words, that for once in his life there was someone who did not blame him but tried to take some of the blame off his shoulders. It had been just as important and as reluctant as the boy had been believing them, he nevertheless had seen the pure bliss hidden in those damn green eyes. They had been pure balsam on the child's wounded soul and mind, just as the healing balm had been needed on the child's back, together with the need of this massage.

He was quite competent when it came to loosen tense muscles, to get his Slytherins to relax, but Merlin – he never before had had someone under his hands with muscles as cramped and knotted as that boy's, even in sleep. And the boy _had_ been sleeping, he had checked, he hadn't simply feigned sleep.

Sighing he shook his head while he wiped the oil off his hands on the towel, his eyes on the now relaxed teen laying splayed on the bed instead of curled up into a small ball as usual and he couldn't help being glad that for once the boy had fallen into a peaceful and healing sleep.

He still didn't know why he bothered at all, why he not only felt worried and concerned but actually affected as well, why he felt that damn knot in his chest he couldn't explain.

Harry whimpered soundlessly in his bed.

Uncle Vernon stood next to him and watched with greedy eyes as some nameless person took position and entered him forcefully, ignoring his struggling, ignoring his screams, while uncle Vernon only stood there and laughed, and he knew that this was only the beginning. He once more was horrified at the realization of just how helpless he was whenever his fear began to affect him and no amount of willpower had ever saved him from this fate, never mind how painful, never mind how horrible, never mind how …

Just as the man was nearing completing Harry became aware of a strong presence behind him but as he was unable to move he was not able to turn his head, was not able to look who was behind him now, who was …

Gentle and slow rocking motions shook his body and the man using him so violently began to fade into shadows as soft, soothing words flowed over him which he only slowly became aware of, which he only slowly started to understand.

"You are safe, child." A deep, smooth and calm voice softly said. "It is all right. It was only a dream."

For a moment he tensed as he realized he was held firmly in a strong embrace until he recognized his Potions Master's voice, then he relaxed further and burrowed back into the warmth the man behind him offered, but it took him another few moments until the last traces of sleep left him completely and he became fully aware just where he was and who was with him.

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Frowning Severus Snape paced up and down in front of the fireplace in his parlour, only stopping every now and then to look at the picture of Lily on the mantelpiece, to take a sip from the water glass that stood on the table, to take a look out of the large window over the grounds, or to deepen his frown.

Why, in Merlin's name, was he so damn restless? Feeling as if something with Potter was terribly wrong? Why did he feel that he should be with that boy right now? And why, for Merlin's sake, was that impulse so overwhelming? He didn't understand it, but finally giving in to this impulse – despite his usual acting pattern – he left the parlour he only had entered half an hour ago, and he went upstairs towards the boy's room, the feeling of worry and concern increasing the closer he came to that door.

Brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and curiosity, the Potions Master turned the brazen knob and opened the door.

Furrowing his brows he moved toward a soundless, thrashing boy on the bed and once he was a short yard away from the bed, the screams finally reached him ears and he blinked in near shock.

A silencing charm? But how?

First, Potter simply was too weak for such a charm right now, for any charm right now. Second this room … this room held wards that … this room held wards that had kept Charley from using such charms.

Gritting his teeth at the thought of …

No, he would not think of Charley right now. He could not afford such weakness right now. Potter needed him and he needed him aware and sane, not drawn in his past.

Pulling himself back into the present time his frown deepened at the screams that clearly were born of pure terror and they caused the dark man's blood to boil while fury and rage at the man that had caused such screams threatened to overwhelm him for a moment. He quickly sat onto the bed and with a shouted "Potter!" he attempted to grab the child and hold him still, only managing that the boy threw himself back and the screams lessened to soft whimpers that escaped the boy's now clenched lips as if he feared screaming further and tried to hold them back with all the strength he had left.

Feeling his anger increasing he again grabbed for the child with another shouted "Potter!", not knowing how else getting through to the boy and finally managing to take hold on the fragile body, pulling him into his arms – with the only result that the boy continued to writhe in his arms, fighting against him.

"Harry." He finally whispered, so softly he wasn't even sure he had spoken at all, and as strange as it was, the child stopped his struggling and his fight. But how had the boy been able to hear him at all? Yet - the effect was instantly.

"You are safe, child." He softly said, running his fingers through the mop of black hair. "It is all right. It was only a dream."

The boy that had stilled in his arms now decided to cling to him for dear life and he gently shook the wizarding child in his arms, trying to wake him without startling him further.

The feeling of Snape's strong arms around him, holding him safe, taking away the horror and desperation from the nightmare for once felt comforting, even if he was frustrated over himself, over his weakness, over clinging to the black clad chest of the Potions Professor and pressing his eyes closed he couldn't stop himself from hoping and praying that the disciplinarian simply would shout about his weakness, his embarrassing behaviour and his insolence, and then leave instead of punishing him.

He flinched when a hand touched his back.

But then he opened his eyes at the feeling of soothing motions on his back, the man's hand slowly and calmly running up and down his spine and the youth found himself leaning in to the comfort and warmth. He simply couldn't help giving in to those soothing and relaxing caresses over his back.

The Professor wrapped his arms around him once more and Harry felt warm liquid fill his eyes. He desperately tried to push it back – he would not cry in front of his professor. He would not. He simply refused. He probably had tried the man's patience already enough and he knew that Snape didn't have much patience to begin with. He knew it from own experience, he had been in Snape's class since three years now after all.

"It was just a nightmare, child." Snape said, softly and calmly and Harry could tell that he was trying his best to calm his fears and horrors, and just that thought was enough to finally lose control over his emotions – and his tears.

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"Are you alright now?" He asked after a while, after the boy's sobs quietened and after the boy apparently had himself back under control.

"I'm fine." The blasted boy answered – how could it be otherwise?

"You were trying to shred your bed into pieces, Mr. Potter." He drawled, trying to sound not too worried and concerned while at the same time trying to keep from being his normal sarcastic self. "You are obviously far from being – _fine_."

It would have hurt, that comment, if the man's voice wouldn't have held that hint of concern and startled Harry looked up into the deep onyx eyes, for a moment fearing he actually might drown in a black sea.

The Potions Master nearly sighed in irritation, trying to keep from showing the frustration he felt. He was trying to help the blasted boy but Potter just wouldn't cooperate.

"Potter!" He growled darkly, knowing that he would provoke a reaction with his next words. "There is no one else here besides of me who may be able listening to the sob story that is your subconsciousness. So you are going to have to tell me about your nightmares if you like it or not."

"There will be no need to tell anything about them." Potter answered, and he nearly smirked at the boy. He had known that this reaction would come – but well, there was a reaction after all. "I'll be able to deal with them."

"Of course, Potter." He drawled. "Bottling them up until the bottle will shatter. Will you be able to control then where the shards will fly to? It might be the harder way, but maybe it would be wiser to keep the bottle from shattering at all in the first place."

There was a long pause of silence, the boy stubbornly looking at his hands that still were bandaged as if he didn't dare moving.

"You wouldn't want to know anyway." The boy finally whispered and he could hear the horror in the small voice.

"I would not have asked if I would not want to know." He answered. "Do you think I have not known that it would not be sunshine and daisies when I brought you here? I knew what I got myself into the moment I brought you here. And yet, I didn't mind and neither do I mind now. I will tell you the same as the Darkmaster has told you. I _do_ care or I would not sit here. I _do_ care or you would not be here. I do care or I would not take the time to talk to you, you idiot child."

Again there was a pause, a longer one this time, but he forced himself to wait patiently as he could see that the boy actually thought over his words, seemed to struggle with himself to take the offered hand or better to retreat a step. But then –

"He … he brought a friend … one from his work." The boy whispered so quietly he actually had to strain his ears to understand the words. "He always did on Saturdays when aunt Petunia left to visit aunt Marge. Always! Aunt Petunia always left me alone with him on the weekends. And he always watched. And laughed. And told them to … She just left me there alone with him. Because she never cared."

"I do care, child." Snape simply said, pulling the boy close and simply wrapping his arms around the fragile child, again wondering why it didn't feel annoying. "I do care enough to have adopted you. You will not ever have to go back there."

"Wha … but … how … when …"

"This morning, Mr. Potter." Snape drawled dryly, his gentle hand carding through the boy's hair antagonising his drawl and the use of 'Mr. Potter' while he remembered the relief he had felt at seeing the boy in a restful, healing sleep instead of the semiconscious state he had been in for the past days. "You have not been aware of the situation or I would have asked for your consent. And I would have told you later but you fell asleep during the massage. I am surprised you were not screaming with pain. I have never had someone under my hands with muscles as tight and cramped as yours, even in sleep, I might add. I have been working on you for over an hour until I have had your muscles loosened, if one can speak of muscles concerning the little mass that is residing between your bones and skin."

"I'm sorry." The boy immediately said, looking down.

"I already told you, I do not want you apologizing for things that are neither your fault nor for things you simply cannot help." The Potions Master said, shaking his head. "And it is not wrong to have nightmares about such horrors either, child. But I have promised you that you never have to go back there and I have ensured just this. You will stay here and we will work on all that horrors. You won't have to face them alone, child. I will be quite there with you."

"But what does this mean?" The boy asked, biting his lip nervously.

"What do you think it means?" The older wizard asked back, reaching over and pulling the boy's lip from between his teeth. "It means that you are now the son of the mean, old dungeons bat that is your Potions Master. That it does mean."

The boy had gone silent and after that he only was awake long enough for the Potions Master to spoon the herbal pain reliever and a few spoons with soup into him before Harry simply passed out again.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The persistence of a Potions Master and the evilness of a headmaster_

_Realizations on both parts_ _– Harry realizing what the Potions Master had said and Snape realizing what Harry his said_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	17. being a parent

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"But what does this mean?" The boy asked, biting his lip nervously._

_"What do you think it means?" The older wizard asked back, reaching over and pulling the boy's lip from between his teeth. "It means that you are now the son of the mean, old dungeons bat that is your Potions Master. That it does mean."_

_The boy had gone silent and after that he only was awake long enough for the Potions Master to spoon the herbal pain reliever and a few spoons with soup into him before Harry simply passed out again._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter seventeen**

**Being a parent**

**Thursday**

Harry's conditions hadn't really changed at all that much over the past few days. He stayed awake longer a bit, if only by an hour or so, but the remnants of his nightmares only left him a few moments after awakening. The most significant difference in Harry's dreams was that he didn't scream anymore, but whimpered and shrunk into whatever hard surface was at his back and Snape didn't really know if this was any better now or worse.

Again he remembered the teen's words after the last nightmare he'd had.

'_He … he brought a friend … one from his work." _The boy had whispered quietly_. "He always did on Saturdays when aunt Petunia left to visit aunt Marge. Always! Aunt Petunia always left me alone with him on the weekends. And he always watched. And laughed. And told them to … She just left me there alone with him. Because she never cared.'_

'_He brought a friend, one from his work. He always did on Saturdays.'_

The meaning of those words hit him full force not for the first time since Potter had whispered them.

He had known that Potter had been raped, or at least he had been pretty sure after he had found the boy naked in his room at Private Drive. But as it seemed, not only Vernon Dursley had raped the child, but that monster even had invited friends from his work over to do the same and that was a thought that disturbed and disgusted him just the more.

Harry was a child, a simple thirteen year old child, and yet he had been raped regularly each Saturday night from not only his uncle but from others, from strangers too, from friends of his uncle the man had invited over for just that, raping an innocent child, and for a moment he wondered how sick muggles could be.

If anyone would ask him to … closing his eyes he knew that he not only would refuse but that he would interfere, that he would … and those muggles had just accepted the invitation. How could they? Didn't they have any sense for … how in Merlin's name could anyone accept such an invitation? This was just sick – and it was sickeningly.

It was no wonder that the teen still had those panic attacks, it was no wonder that the boy had withdrawn so deeply within himself that he sometimes didn't realize where he was, who was with him or who even he himself was. It was no wonder that Potter still had nightmares. It was no wonder that the boy's mind was a mess and it was no wonder that the boy's core had …

Groaning in frustration and leaning his head tiredly into his hands he wondered if he even would be able to help the child he had adopted. How could he battle such pain? Such fear? How could he battle such memories? The boy's knowledge of having been raped in such a way?

Potter had never been online on Saturdays, and he now knew why.

Gritting his teeth in a mixture of pure frustration and rage he tried to not imagine the pain and the fear and the desperation the boy must have felt and he tried to not blame himself for not realizing it earlier, for not taking actions earlier, while he at the same time failed miserably.

And Potter was the one how had to pay for it.

The main thing the boy still did though was sleeping, and the Potions Master was glad for this. As long as the boy slept, his body had time to heal.

Sighing and getting off the chair he walked over to the counter and poured another cup of tea.

Why had Potter taken the information about his adoption so well yesterday evening? Why had he not said a word against it? Why had he not ranted against it? Why had he not … had he even realized what exactly he had told him? Did he even realize what his words had meant? But then –

The boy definitely had understood. He had asked what it meant and he had explained it to him. The boy hadn't said anything after that, had fallen asleep soon after, but he had looked thoughtfully and – as strange as it was – not really as if he were angry, disgusted or upset at the thought.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

He just couldn't stay laying here all day or uncle Vernon surely would let him pay for it. He had to make dinner, and he had to make dinner now. Aunt Petunia wasn't here to keep uncle Vernon from simply killing him, she never was here to keep his uncle from killing him. From killing him slowly but surely. So he better got off and made dinner now and flinging the covers off himself awkwardly while trying to ignore the pain in his hands, in his arms and legs he closed his eyes and waited until the dizziness ceased so he would be able to get off the bed.

He just vaguely wondered why he had been laying in a bed in the first place, and why it was a soft bed with soft pillows and a soft blanket.

"Potter!"

A deep voice behind him growled and he jumped, nearly falling off the bed while a large shadow came closer to him and for a moment he nearly started to panic, the terror of the dark shadow adding to the shock of nearly falling off the bed.

"And just where do you think you are going?" The Potions Master's stern voice asked from the doorway and Harry looked up to see Snape standing there. He couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. For a moment he had thought that uncle Vernon …

"Uhm, I just …" He said, trailing off and averting his eyes towards the floor.

"You are not going anywhere." Snape announced. "At least not without me ensuring that you actually reach your destination. And not before I have had a look at you."

The man came closer and sat onto the edge of the bed, dangerously close to him for his liking, and then extended a hand towards him. He did so slowly, but nevertheless he had to keep himself from flinching back, for a moment seeing uncle Vernon's hand coming down on him and he gritted his teeth to prevent a small gasp. What he couldn't prevent himself doing however, was closing his eyes for a moment tightly before opening them again, slowly, cursing his cowardice in his mind.

Why did he always have to fear the Professor beating him? Damn! The man surely thought he was a coward and a weakling and a nuisance! But the warm hand that gently touched his forehead actually felt good and he wondered how Snape could have so warm hands. He always seemed so cold.

The older wizard ran his hand down his face and the long fingers touched his throat, causing him to pull his shoulders up, shivering at the tickling sensation and for a moment he was sure that he could see a smirk on the man's otherwise dark face.

"Well, what's the verdict?" He asked, just to loosen the tension he felt. "Will I escape a death sentence?"

Snape looked down at him without a hint of a smile on his stern face or in his dark eyes that seemed to pierce him with a dangerous seriousness mixed with something he never before had seen in the man's dark eyes.

"This is not funny." The man growled darkly. "As it seems you do not realize the severity of you condition."

"But … but I'm ok now, right?" He asked, trying to swallow his fear down before Snape could see it on his face. "I mean, I'm still alive to annoy you!"

"Your concept of humour is rotten, Potter." Snape snapped back, scowling at him.

"I'm sorry, sir." He said, feeling guilty and lifting his arms in an indication that he just felt helpless, that he didn't know what else to do, but then he winced, and he actually sucked in a sharp breath when his still bandaged hands came in harsh contact with the bedcovers.

"What's hurting?" Snape demanded.

"Dunno …" Harry mumbled, looking aside.

"Potter!" Snape barked, glaring at him and he swallowed again.

"I'm sore." Well, he should have known that Snape would not simply let it pass. "My muscles ache, and I'm all stiff."

"Alright." The man nodded at him. "I want you having a hot bath and then you will take a relaxing potion, and after that I will help stretching your muscles. You however will take it easy today. I do not want you doing more than quietly sitting in bed and reading. There will be no running around, no yelling and surely no getting excited. Just resting. I will help you up and to the bathroom."

His eyes going wide before he blinked at the man he shook his head. Surely he would not allow Snape bringing him to the bathroom and then maybe even …

But the man already had placed both his hands on his upper arms and helped him standing up very slowly, nearly pulling him up as he himself still seemed to be reluctant, shocked and not really believing yet that he was led to the bathroom by – Snape.

He winced the moment he stood on his two feet, trying to avoid another hiss of pain, trying to avoid making any sounds at all, but luckily Snape did not comment and supported by the man, almost being carried, he began to make a slow and painful trip towards the bathroom. His legs hurt, more than before, as did his back, but he kept silent – he would manage with Snape holding him.

He could feel sweat running down his back between his shoulder blades, he could feel his limbs starting to tremble worse than they already had before, and he could feel his strength vanishing quickly, knowing that it wouldn't last until they had reached the door that – apparently – led to a bathroom that was added to the room he slept in.

He was so close, but then he could feel his knees giving out under him and he would have fallen if Snape would not have tightened the grip he held him with, but instead of the scolding he was almost certain he was getting, the Professor's face just flickered into a concerned frown before – just as quickly – returning to its normal stoic expression.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Twice the boy nearly fell, his knees simply giving out beneath him, and he had to tighten his grip around the thin body, refusing to let him drop and he couldn't help worrying at the weak and staggering steps the boy took.

"Do not hurry." He quietly warned, knowing how the boy felt and knowing that he had to keep his mind busy. "Take all the time you need. I have you, and I won't let you fall. Easy child, I promise I will not let you go."

And so they kept moving on, slowly but steadily until they had reached their destiny and Snape had opened the door, had led him inside.

The child paled incredulously and looked absolutely horrified when Severus helped him standing in the middle of the bathroom, flicking his wand to fill the tub with warm water while still keeping one arm around the boy's waist, fearing he would fall the moment he released him, and then began taking off the boy's clothes, opening the buttons of the pyjama top.

But then –

"Ple… please … please stop …" Snape heard the faint words and immediately stilled his hands, sharply looking down into the child's frightened green eyes, realizing how badly the boy was shaking.

"You have nothing to fear, Potter, alright?" He quietly said, hoping he would gain an answer but knowing that he would not. "I just will remove your clothes because of the buttons. You won't be able to use your hands for a while, especially your fingers." He whispered to the young, still shaking child. "I can get one of the elves to help you, if you would prefer that."

Immediately the boy shook his head in response and the Potions Master quickly removed the rest of the child's clothes and then helped him into the bathtub, knowing the sooner he would get this over with, the sooner the boy would feel less panicky.

"Will you manage alone, Mr. Potter or would you prefer me being here?"

"I'll manage." The boy answered the moment he sat in the warm water, covered with a layer of foam, the aroma of lavender wafting through the bathroom.

Cursing his own weakness, his fear and the fact that he had started begging in front of Snape Harry sighed a sigh that was a mixture of frustration and relief when the man had left the bathroom.

At least Snape had not made a scathing comment.

But then – the man hadn't done so since he had come here to … to Prince Manor.

Why was Snape here at Prince Manor in the first place? He had been barely awake when the Potions Master had told him the Prince's tale. Maybe he had missed the part where he had told him why he was here now. Was Snape one of the Prince's descendants?

Snape had said that the manor had been abandoned for a long time. That one of the descendants had been living there with a friend but that since then the manor had been uninhabited for a long time again. But why was he now here? He didn't understand it and he tried to remember what Snape had told him in this story, but by the life of him, he couldn't.

He had been too weak, too tired and too scared to really concentrate and to really memorize the man's words.

The strangest part however was that – Snape never had made a scathing remark and he always had tried to comfort him, he had healed him, had talked to him, had held him even. What had happened to Snape? That was not the man he knew from his previous three years of potions classes.

But then – Snape was the Darkmaster, wasn't he? And the man definitely had acted like the Darkmaster would. So – did this mean that Snape maybe was … somehow schizophrenic? But then – no. Snape and the Darkmaster were just too similar. They were not two different personalities, but one and the same with two different names, nothing else.

For a moment he wondered why he never had noticed this in the room of requirement or during their conversations in their private dialogues, how similar the Darkmaster was to Snape.

And Snape had …

Blinking he remembered – again – their conversation the night before. Snape had adopted him.

Snape, dark and cold and greasy dungeons Snape, the dungeons bat, the greasy git, bastard of the dungeons – SNAPE – had adopted him. Snape, who hated him because he reminded him at his father had adopted him. Snape who had berated and ridiculed him in front of the class during each and every potions lesson since three years, Snape who always was looking at him with disgust in his black eyes, had adopted him.

He simply didn't understand it and he tried to think … his eyes twitching close, he shook his head at the dizziness that threatened to keep him from thinking properly … he had asked Snape, what it meant, and Snape had answered – in his own snarky way – that it meant that he now was the son of his mean, old dungeons bat that was their Potions Master … but what did it really mean? What would it mean for him, Harry? What did it mean for both of their futures and was there even a future? Did it really mean that he had a … a _father _… now? And Snape?

Shaking his hand he tried to imagine … but before he even knew what he tried to imagine, he felt the muscles in his arms spasm, the pain already shooting up to his shoulders.

Gritting his teeth he clenched his eyes shut, willing the pain and the cramps away. Surely Snape wouldn't be so pleased about him causing even more problems yet again.

Snape had said he had adopted him.

But before he could grasp that thought again he slipped under the water, gasping.

He didn't hear the door opening and he didn't hear the running steps that hastily came to the tub.

He didn't feel the strong arms pulling him out of the tub and he didn't feel the hand on his back, pushing the water from his lungs.

And he missed the Potions Master's voice betraying one of the rarest emotions ever being found in the usually emotionless and stoic man – panic.

He only saw a black clad figure with white skin for a second.

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Potter looked deceivingly small and innocent as he lay in his bed, the blankets hiding the still slightly trembling legs and arms and he reminded Snape so very much of the child he had taken from Private Drive just a few days ago, tired, scared starved, badly injured and world weary, and he wondered whether it wasn't better to leave him now, to let him sleep and regain his strength. But he as well knew that the boy needed the relaxing potion if he didn't want risking a seizure during the boy's sleep and so he extended his hand, gently placing it at the boy's shoulder, calmly calling out his name while he felt a mixture of emotions soaring through him.

The first one was irritation about the way Potter had handled this situation, keeping the symptoms of a new seizure to himself until it had been too late. Understanding when he realized why the boy had not called out for help before the seizures had gripped him, before he had slipped under the water. Relief that he had been in time to prevent the boy from drowning in the tub and finally guilt because he had neglected the boy, once again – until he became angry, angry at himself, angry at the boy, and angry at the situation itself.

He had not noticed that the horror the boy had felt at being undressed by him, especially after what he now knew had been done to the child, could lead to another seizure – or rather, he had noticed, but he had preferred to ignore it. He should not have left the bathroom, he should have kept one eye on the boy all the times, especially as he had known how weak the boy still was, barely able to walk to the bathroom in the first place, even with his help.

Once more this child had been neglected because of people that had been thoughtless.

But no longer!

He promised to himself.

No longer! He would make the boy seeing sense here and now and even if he would have to force-feed this sense to the child with a spoon like the potions and the soup. He would make sure that the boy would know that not only would he finally be cared for, but that he would have to accept that care, that he would have to trust him and that he would have to tell him if he felt unwell so he could be helped in the first place.

The sensation of someone gently shaking him and of softly spoken words got him out of his sleep and tiredly he opened his eyes, not really consent with the person who wanted him awake. However – upon managing he could make out Snape sitting in the armchair beside his bed and having him seen sitting there for so many times now, he was going to start thinking of it as Snape's armchair.

Yes – as strange as it was – Snape seemed to be always there, and again, as strange as it was, this thought caused him to feel strangely warm – to feel strangely safe.

The man reached out and placed a cool cloth on his forehead, like he had done so often now and he couldn't help but basking in the comfort it brought, closing his eyes again. It felt nice to have the cool cloth pressed against his skin and it was nice that someone was doing it for him, and he didn't want Snape to leave. But then he realized that the Potions Master must be irritated enough as it was, that he had caused him troubles again.

"Sir?" He softly started, running his tongue over his lip for a moment. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused again."

"It was no trouble, Harry, and it is of no consequence." Snape replied calmly, turning the cloth over before pressing the soft fabric against the child's forehead again.

"I know you're mad and …"

"I am not!" The older wizard said, more forcefully for a moment he originally had intended and he sighed, because he knew that Snape was. "I am not angry at you. I am angry at your relatives for the damage they have caused. _They _are to be blamed, not you. Is the pain gone?" The Professor asked, taking the soft fabric away from his forehead.

He looked over at the man, noticing the pale face holding more lines than it had during the past three years, noticing the tired eyes and the worried frown, noticing the man's mouth being a straight, thin line, an angry line, and he didn't dare saying something for some time while Snape watched him too.

Then –

"You are angry with me." He couldn't help whispering, he simply had to know. "I'm sorry. I didn't …"

"Stop talking nonsense, child, and drink these." The man replied curtly and placed a vial, one of his potions he so loved and he – Harry – so much hated, at his lips. They simply always tasted awfully!

Potter still shook, his pale face lined with pain and fear, with confusion and worry, the green eyes tired with dark circles beneath, the thin limps still shaking. He however didn't move a muscle at the particularly awful taste of this one the moment he obediently drank the potion down, not even grimacing and he wondered if the boy simply didn't care anymore, had buried all of his senses, or if he just wanted to be brave in front of him.

"Professor?" The insufferable brat asked again, more interested in his question than anything else as it seemed and he sighed in irritation.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" He couldn't help growling. "Will you for once concentrate on the things at hand?" But then he realized the futility of his question. The child already did his best and he wouldn't be able to do any better. Considering the state he had found the child in, he knew that he could be glad he still was alive, and considering the state he had found the child in, he knew that any other child would have ranted, would have screamed bloody murder, would have … well, no other child would have been as brave as Potter had been, it was that simple. And the boy simply had to know so he knew where he stood, what would await him and what he would have to await after that what would await him.

The child only was scared.

"I am angry because you chose to remain quiet although I am sure you felt the symptoms of a new seizure." He answered with a sigh. "You did not even call out when the seizure started and if I had not been about to enter the bathroom to bring you a clean pyjama, then you could have lain in the water for minutes without help, then you would have died in this tub."

"I'm sorry." The boy answered softly, obediently swallowing the second potion he uncorked and then held on his lips. "I thought you've been bothered enough. I thought that … dunno …"

"I already told you, Potter, you did not bother me." He said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment while leaning his head forwards, allowing his hair to shield his face. "I do not blame you. I do indeed blame your relatives. Your aunt for not caring enough and for neglecting you and your uncle for abusing and mistreating you in a way that is inexcusable. I do blame even myself as I should not have left you alone. I am angry because you did not call for help, yes, but I do not blame you as I do understand your motivations. I expect however of you, that you start to learn. To learn that I indeed do care and that I indeed do want to keep you not only alive but well too. I do not know if you really realize the meaning of my words spoken earlier, but I _have_ adopted you and I have done so by my free will. Do you really think I would have done so if I wished to lose the son I just gained so quickly?"

"But … but you … you would … you would be far better off … without me." The brat said, his breath hitching. "I mean …"

"I would not continue with this particular sentence if I were you, Mr. Potter." He growled darkly and for a moment he actually would like to strangle the brat – or his relatives that had placed so much loss, insecurity and self-loath into that child until it had shattered under the pressure of neglect and abuse which they had taught the boy was his fault.

"And now you listen to me, Mr. Potter, and listen closely, because I will not repeat my words." He continued. "I do know that I am your cold and dark Potions Professor from your past three years and I will be just that for the next four years also. And nevertheless I have adopted you and I did so willingly. I had to do something so neither the ministry nor the headmaster could take you away and ship you back to the Dursleys. I have promised you that you would not have to go back there and I promised you that I even would take you in to prevent you from this. And in adopting you I simply have ensured that no one, and I mean _absolutely _no one, can take you away, ever. I did not do so because I pity you or because I feel obliged to keep you safe, but because I wanted to, and because I simply care about you. I won't harm you, Do you understand that?"

The boy nodded at him, looking at him as if he had grown a second head but he ignored it for now. "Good. Further – I won't beat you, starve you, lock you up or rape you. I won't keep food or medications from you and even in class, I won't pick on you in future. I do promise you that and I do apologize for having done that in the past. I – at the same time – expect you however to trust me, to tell me if you are not well, to allow me to help you and to respect the effort I am making. I do know that it will take time for you to accept the fact that you are my son from now on, that I – of all people – am your father, but I ask you to at least try making the same effort and to accept it and to … to at least try and trust me." He added with a sigh, knowing that he wouldn't be able to expect more from the boy right now.

After a moment Potter nodded at him, still looking at him dumbstruck.

"Good. And now keep your mouth shut and try to go back to sleep, you need it and it is still early in the morning." He growled. "I'll be back up here later to get you for lunch."

"Yes, Professor." Potter nodded meekly and closed his eyes.

"And tomorrow you will eat a full breakfast, even if it takes us hours, do you hear?"

"Yes, Professor." The boy said and there was a hint of a smile on the child's face that nearly caused the Potions Master to smile as well.

"We will go over the rest later and throughout the next days, Potter. Now sleep."

And Potter slept.

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Well, Snape had – yet again – fed him soup for lunch, but this time there had been rice in it, and pieces of beef. For a moment he wondered how long he was here already, but the thought quickly vanished at the memory of Snape feeding him. He had – as always – been embarrassed and he had cast unsure glances at the older wizard, hidden beneath his lowered lids, but Snape had not looked as if he minded feeding him.

He had looked perfectly normal, not even as if he would enjoy it so he could hold it against him later. He had looked as if it was the most normal thing in the world, feeding a teenager you hated. But hen – Snape had said he didn't hate him. But he always had hated him. And surely one could not go from hate to not hate from one day to the other … what again led to the question – how long was he already here at Prince Manor?

It couldn't be too long, could it? He still felt the pain from the welts and the cuts all over his body, especially his back, never mind what he had told Snape earlier. And he still felt so damn weak and tired all the time. Walking to the bathroom this morning had been … well, he better didn't think about that right now. The moment itself had been embarrassing enough, he didn't need to think about it too.

And his hands were still bandaged, so – it couldn't bee too long since he was here. Snape had said that his fingers had been broken, and that they had been burnt – as if he had not known that by himself, he had been there to experience it after all – and he also had said that they would be very stiff and that he would not be able to grip anything for at least two to four weeks, and even then, he had said, that anything thinner than a wand would be difficult to handle for a while after that – in other words, he probably would be fed by Snape for another two weeks or so – just bloody brilliant!

Snape surely would not be so patient to feed him for the next two weeks, so, in other words, he either would have to go hungry at one point or another, or he would be shipped off to only Merlin knew whereto. The first, he really didn't mind. He was used to being hungry, but he didn't want to be sent away. With the hunger he would be able to deal, but not with being pushed away again, even if it was Snape he was with, who would push him away.

Merlin – how damn weak was he, that he was dependent on Snape like that? That he craved Snape's affection like that? That he longed for being accepted by Snape like that? It was Snape, after all, their most hated teacher! And yet he acted like a baby that feared losing his beloved father that always had been there to care.

He should be used to being shoved away, to being locked away and to go hungry, to go without medical care! And he should be used to being hurt and beaten too! To being punished. And nothing else it had been, all the beatings, and that he hadn't gotten anything to eat, never mind what Snape said, he knew, they just had been punishments for – well, for anything, like when he had turned his teacher's hair blue that day she had been yelling at him to pay attention while he barely had been able to sit down for the pain on his bottom because he had been beaten by uncle Vernon for breaking aunt Petunia's crystal pitcher.

He should be used to them and he shouldn't fear being pushed aside again, really. Why did he so desperately want Snape liking him?

His thoughts were interrupted as the tremors in his hands got worse and he for a moment actually considered if he should call for Snape. But then – the man had done already enough for him and he surely would manage without bothering him again, surely the tremors would go away, he'd had the potion after all.

Slowly the tremors swept thought his body, becoming more and more violent.

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He didn't know what it was, but he just knew that he had to go upstairs to have a look at his son, again noticing how strange those two little words felt. His son.

He was Severus Snape, for Merlin's pants! And Severus Snape was …

Well, no matter who or what Severus Snape was, he was a father now. And never mind if he had to get used to it by himself first, he had a son now. And never mind if he …

Closing his eyes he forced his thinking into the back of his mind and went upstairs his calm walk changing into a mad rush half way up the stairs the moment he heard a body hitting the ground in the boy's room while cursing under his breath.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The desperation of a Potions Master and the evilness of a headmaster _–_ what should have come in this chapter _…

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	18. tremors and seizures

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He didn't know what it was, but he just knew that he had to go upstairs to have a look at his son, again noticing how strange those two little words felt. His son. _

_He was Severus Snape, for Merlin's pants! And Severus Snape was …_

_Well, no matter who or what Severus Snape was, he was a father now. And never mind if he had to get used to it by himself first, he had a son now. And never mind if he …_

_Closing his eyes he forced his thinking into the back of his mind and went upstairs his calm walk changing into a rush half way up the stairs the moment he heard a body hitting the ground in the boy's room while cursing under his breath._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter eighteen **

**Tremors and seizures**

**Friday**

He was back in his cupboard, he knew it. He could smell it in the darkness, the cleaning supplies aunt Petunia kept in there, and the dust that fell from the stairs above, that made him cough. He simply was back in his cupboard!

But why had Snape brought him back? He had promised him he wouldn't! He had adopted him even to prevent it! So why had be brought him back now?

_Stupid question!_ He cursed himself while he tried to get up from the floor he had fallen to when he had tried to leave the bed, wondering what a bed was doing in his cupboard in the first place. _Of course Snape brought you back, you stupid freak! You're just too much a bother! Always worrying Snape and always causing troubles!_

If just he hadn't locked him into the cupboard again!

"No!" He whispered, his voice shocked and desperate while he struggled to his feet, ignoring the seizures that threatened to get him down again and he reached out his arm to steady himself at the next best thing, one of the shelves in his cupboard. He was so close to the door. He simply _had_ to know that it would open, he had to know he could get outside. Because if he could get outside, then that meant that he wasn't in his cupboard at all, then this all was just a nightmare, then he still was with Snape at Prince Manor, then he still …

Dizziness assailed him as he took another unsure step towards the door and he grabbed another shelve to steady himself when a new wave of dizziness hit him, when new seizures hit his limbs, but he could feel himself losing the battle and falling back down to the floor again, not realizing that the door was thrown open.

Severus was beside Harry in a moment and grabbed him around his waist as his legs gave out underneath him and strong arms lifted him up but the boy could not stop himself from shivering as a memory flashed before his eyes. It was gone before he could grab hold of it but it left him with a cold feeling of dread.

And then there was pain upon him he simply wasn't able to deal with anymore, surging through his body like lightning through a copper wire and every muscle in his body cramped. His bones felt as though they were cracking into thousand of razor sharp shards, cutting through his muscles from the inside and he bit back a scream, teeth grinding so tightly that he feared they would shatter and every nerve was aflame as if they were being burned alive, every vein pumping acid and his skin felt as if every inch was being peeled off from the muscles like the skin of cooked potatoes. He was dimly aware of the cramping of his limbs and of someone holding him while his muscles cramped, and he pressed his eyes close tightly against the pain, his mind flailing while each moment was like eternity, while each second was like a fresh new hell.

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Shock and horror were no feelings that were strangers to Severus, but never before had he felt both of them so deeply than he did right now while holding the teenage boy that was laying in his arms in an awkward angle from the cramps that tore through the thin body. The worst however was that this time the boy seemed to be in a great deal of pain, in more pain than any human being, lest of all a child, should be feeling, a pain that deep, the boy's body arching whenever the cramps lessened enough for the overstrained muscles to react to this pain and he knew that the boy's core was simply breaking apart.

Contrary to the shock and horror, concern was _not_ something Severus was accustomed to but he had felt it before and he knew that this was indeed what he felt towards the boy now. A deep-rooted concern that kept him awake at night, that had taken hold of him and refused to let go whenever the boy was out of his sight.

He had hoped the child would have a few months more, maybe even a few years, he never would have thought that his core would break apart so soon, that the boy would die so soon, but it was clear that this it was what was happening right now and he didn't know what to do to make it any easier to him.

He had feared Harry might die in the beginning, after he had brought him here to Prince Manor, but back then he still had not feared he might die because his core might break apart just then, but because of all the injuries that had been too serious and simply too much. But now ...

Taking another vial from the side table he forced the sleeping draught down the boy's throat and he nearly sighed a sigh of relief when the small body finally stopped cramping, but even in his drugged sleep, the child cried out in pain every now and then, his weak body arching up every now and then, before settling back down and the only thing he could do was trying to calm the distressed teenager and to gently cleaning away the perspiration that covered the skeletal body of a child that never should have to face such horrors.

Startling him out of yet another vigil was Zilly who appeared in front of him, hopping nervously from one foot to the other and watching him with a frightened expression he rarely had seen on the small elf and he ran his hand over his tired face.

"What is it, Zilly?" He asked in a voice that sounded too tired and hollow in his own ears.

He needed sleep, and he knew it.

"There has been a message for Master Severus, sir." The small creature said unsurely, his eyes growing even larger and upon blinking his eyes several times to get back control over himself he could see the small note Zilly held in his hands. "It appeared on the kitchen table, Master Severus, and …"

"It is alright, Zilly." Severus said, knowing that – whatever it was – it wasn't the elf's fault, and he reached out towards the small creature who handed him the note.

"Does Master Severus need anything?" He asked and sighing Severus closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.

"A soup would be fine, Zilly." He finally said, knowing that most likely it would help if he ate something and he opened the note while Zilly disappeared with a soft 'pop'. A moment later however he nearly seethed with fury and he actually had to get up to pace, just so he wouldn't do anything stupid and accidentally wake and startle the boy.

How could he!

How could he dare!

Going over the words a second time he realized that he couldn't even do anything against it as the Weasleys already were on their way.

_'Dear Severus,_

_I still think that it is important for Harry to see his friends, and so I have contacted Molly and Arthur Weasley. They have been in Rumania to visit their oldest son, but after I have explained everything to them they have cut their holidays short and are now on their way back to Britain. They will drop by on their way home to visit Harry._

_Yours, Albus.'_

How could that blasted, meddling, old fool dare!

Did he think he had erected stronger wards to keep him out for naught? Of course Albus had realized by now that he was excluded off his wards meanwhile, and of course the old man was trying another approach! But over the health of …

Closing his eyes for a moment he tried to calm himself.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry's sleep was still fitful, the covers twisting around him as his arms flailed at random intervals and Severus more than once had to entangle the boy's limbs from the folds of his blanket. Stories seemed to play out in his head, altered truths, memories his mind had broken into pieces and seemingly stuck back together in the wrong order. One minute he seemed to be three years old, the next he seemed to be back at being thirteen but he seemed to feel just as terrified as he had when he were younger.

He couldn't make out much, but he was sure that some words he never would forget again, understandable words, like cupboard, hunger, can't breathe, hurts, stop and please mixed up with barely recognizable words like owwie, twomise, pwease, tummy and aunty, a mixture of words from a thirteen year old child and the baby talk of a three year old, dependent on the state of mind the child was in at the particular moment.

Sometimes Harry woke up seemingly recognizing his surroundings, other times, he woke in such a mess that he didn't seem to really remember anything, sometimes horror and disgust was written all over the pale and pained face and without warning, his body lurched forward in a fit to dispel whatever painful, dark feelings his body had been held captive for much too long. Most probably memories of the rape those bastards had …

Getting off the chair he had been sitting in yet another night Severus went over to the large window, looking for any signs of the first rays of daylight. If the boy made it until then, until morning, he could breathe a bit. But yet it was still dark as coal out there and not even some stars were lurking between the clouds. Sitting back down and reaching over to take the small and still not completely healed hand in his, the Potions Master lost himself to his exhausted thoughts again.

He was used to waiting, had done so often enough, yet it never had been as hard as it was this time and for the first time since he had seen Harry in the great hall three years ago he wanted to see this boy's green eyes. To see some proof of life in him, other than this weak lift of his chest every now and then, other than to feel the weak pulse that was running through his wrist too slowly and too weakly.

The boy gasped in his potion induced sleep, fighting a war with something far greater than the question of dinner or which book to read, and he knew that the boy's mind yearned for death while yet his weak body struggled against all odds for life. And nevertheless he immediately leaped to the boy's bedside the second his breathing pattern had changed again, but no combination of healing spells and curing charms, and no attempts of getting potions down the boy's throat had any effect. If anything, Severus' efforts only had managed to distress the boy's body further and his breathing had indeed stopped completely for longer than a full minute.

Nothing the Dark Lord had ever thrown at him had been able to compare to the terror Severus had felt in those moments.

It had been a breaking point, a breaking point at which he had realized that during the past two weeks while conversing with the boy in the room of requirement, and that during the past few days during which he had taken care of the child, had adopted him, he had come to care deeply for the child, he had come to … he had started to _feel_ something for the child.

The first stripes of pink, violet and a brighter blue were edging across the sky and he knew it would be morning soon, the world would continue on while the boy on the bed waited at the edge of his existences to see what fate would decide for him. But he knew that this day could not possibly get any better. The child held barely onto life as it was and he didn't know what to do anymore.

He had to admit it – he simply was desperate.

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He had gotten Harry through the night, yes, but the relief Severus had felt while the first pink and violet tinges of daylight had appeared, had been short lived, as soon after the sun had risen, soon after Severus had downed yet another cup of black coffee, the boy had taken a turn for the worse.

In the beginning, yesterday afternoon, he had anticipated the need to move quickly, and he had unstoppered all the vials he had taken from the small cabinet in the corner of the room, even the most unlikely ones, and he had used them all throughout the night at one point or another while fighting for the boy's life that had become so important to him. And yet, Harry showed no sign of opening his eyes or to return to the land of the living in any way, shape or form at this point.

He had gasped for breath several times during the night, but Severus knew, it was simply the body and mind battling over life or death. He had cried out in pain sometimes too, but that hadn't been any better either, it had worried Severus just as much, had even hurt himself while feeling helpless.

Reaching over and taking Harry's cool wrist in his slender hands again, he held his breath slightly, concentrating.

Yes, it was still there, Harry's pulse - faintly, weak, hard to detect, but it was there, a body's will to survive. The boy's breathing too was barely noticeable - a hand on his chest was the only way to tell properly, and Snape counted the weak and irregular rise and fall of the bony chest.

How was it that the brat had managed to worm his way into his not existent heart? How was it that the brat had managed to turn his world over so completely?

Of course he knew what Jason had told him. That with the adoption a bond would form itself and that with this bond he would start feeling like any father would feel towards his son. But he knew that it wasn't that. It simply couldn't be that as the bond had already had started before the adoption or he wouldn't have taken this step at all.

He had long before seen that he had been wrong about the boy and he had long before started to worry about him. He had long before started to respect the boy and he had long before started to care.

He remembered the worry he had felt last Saturday while waiting for Potter's messages, his pacing, while he had not been able to do anything creative, while he had not been able to concentrate on anything aside from his worries, and he remembered the moment he had seen the boy laying on the floor in his room at Private Drive, the horror he had felt, the blinding rage he had felt, the … the horror simply had been the same he felt now, while the boy was so close to death again and he wondered why in Merlin's name he feared losing this particular child so much.

"The Weasley family has arrived and Arthur Weasley asks for permission to enter the manor, Master Severus." Zilly announced, getting him out of his thoughts and he growled darkly at the reminder of the newest betrayal Harry would have to face and to deal with, Albus' betrayal.

"Let them in, please, but keep them downstairs in the entrance hall." He said while trying to calm himself. "Ensure that they have some refreshments as they have travelled a long way. Please inform them that I will be down shortly. I ask you to come back quickly to watch over the boy as I do not wish to leave him alone while I speak to them."

"Of course, Master Severus." Zilly said. He was sure that the small house elf would have clapped his hands in delight upon having guests at Prince Manor if he wouldn't know the graveness of the situation.

"And Zilly." He called, waited until the small creature looked at him again. "I do thank you." He then added and this time a happy smile crept over the elf's wrinkled face before he left with a small 'pop'.

He turned his attention back to Potter, to Harry, examining him yet again, ensuring that it would be alright for the weak body to be left alone with the house elf for a few minutes, and then he placed yet another vial of the emergency potion at the side table. He knew that Zilly would be able to fetch the potion himself, Zilly was the house elf of a Potions Master since long, long years after all, but he did so nevertheless.

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Molly and Arthur Weasley would have preferred the floo, but Dumbledore had warned them to not try this kind of travelling. As it seemed, Severus had shut down every means of visiting his manor, and so they had apparated to a point outside the wards Dumbledore had given them, and then they had asked for permission to enter. The house elf that had appeared had left, then come back and finally had taken them, had 'popped' with them into the entrance hall where already a large jar of pumpkin juice and a few glasses awaited them.

The twins whistled upon seeing the large hall and Ronald gaped through the hall open mouthed until Arthur – who had to admit that it was an impressive sight – placed his fingers underneath his son's chin to close it. Molly, nearly sobbing, poured some juice into the glasses and he knew that she only did so because it was required, not because she really was thirsty. She had been sobbing all their way home, from international floo station to international floo station.

But they both had noticed that Severus had not greeted them upon their arrival – what would have been a standard wizarding tradition – and it was clear that the refreshments had been set out to satisfy them during his absence and this didn't bode well with them. They knew Severus since a long time now and they both knew that the dark man only broke tradition for very serious reasons. So – trying to keep up the facade of calmness that would be required right now, Molly reached one of the glasses to their youngest while the twins and Ronald already took glasses from the side board, while still looking around the room.

It wasn't that there were a lot of furniture in the room, there were long sideboards at the eastern and western walls of the hall, a large grandfather clock in one corner a spacious wardrobe at the northern wall beside the entrance door and benches and trunks stood scattered around the walls, more collector's items than really for being used often. A small fire was lit in the fireplace despite the fact that it was summer, and a few pictures – the twins were sure that they all were old Potions Masters – were placed along the walls, some looking down at them, one still sleeping and one frowning angrily.

No, it was rather the seize and the height of the room that had them gaping in wonder.

"What do you think, maybe he'll allow us to play Quidditch in here?" Fred whispered towards George and George took another look through the room, along the walls and the ceiling, already imagining the three loop holed poles looming at each side of the hall.

"I think not, Misters Weasley." Snape's deep and velvet voice startled them and they all turned to see him striding down the flight of stairs opposite the large entrance door.

"My sincere apologies for not greeting you in person, Arthur and Molly." Severus then addressed the Weasley patriarchs, his dark eyes only skimming over the children briefly before he turned back to the adults. "Young Mr. Potter has had a most difficult night, and due to his condition changing for the better or the worse nearly every hour, my undivided attention and presencehad been required in his room until just now."

"That's alright, Severus." Arthur said, unsure of what to do or say. Not only was it Harry whom he worried about, but they were at Prince Manor and – even if they knew that Severus was a very formal man – _seeing_ him acting so formally was nothing they were used to. They were rather used to the grumpy Snape, striding into the room where they had held the order meetings so many years ago, giving his report and then either leaving as quickly as possible or standing at a window silently staring outside while listening to the discussions.

And Severus himself didn't look so well either, he had to admit. He had seen the man in different stages of health before, during those order meetings, sometimes well, sometimes injured and sometimes even after the man had been cursed, but never before had he seen him so tired and exhausted, the pale face drawn with dark circles underneath worried dark eyes and new lines of concern that hadn't been there, now marking the other man's face. And nevertheless the wizard stood tall and proud in front of them.

"You look tired, Severus, I hope you are well?" He finally said.

"Thank you Arthur, I am well. I however do apologize for Albus causing you to cut your well deserved holidays short upon something you wouldn't be able to change anyway." Well, Arthur always had known that Severus _could_ be downright tolerable, and he reached out to place a firm hand on the man's shoulder, nearly fearing that Severus would scowl at him for it, but nothing came, a sign of how tired and exhausted he really was.

"Don't worry about that, Severus." He said. "We do care about Harry and of course we would come to visit him upon hearing that he has been hurt."

"I do not know what Albus has told you, Arthur, but it is of utmost importance, that young Mr. Potter is _not_ to be distressed." He said, trying to drive the importance of the situation home without causing them to panic. "Harry …" here he noticed that Ronald looked across at his twin brothers, his eyes large and mouthing the word "Harry?" but he continued on. "_Harry_ … is still suffering from some rather extreme health problems and he is _far_ from being healed. He has come into my care in a dangerously malnourished and severely injured state."

"Those horrible relatives of him!" Ginny Weasley whispered, quickly turning towards her mother to sob into the woman's embrace quietly and Snape couldn't help but agreeing with the girl. _'Yes, little one, for once I would give points to Gryffindor if it weren't the holidays.'_ He thought.

"However, more than once he has nearly died since arriving in my care a week ago and I have been working to the best of my abilities to repair the damage that has been inflicted upon his body." He continued, ignoring the sobbing girl. "He needs quiet, he needs rest and he needs support, and in all honesty he needs to be left alone. When Albus arranged this meeting, he has done so _without my consent_ and with the events that have transpired during the past 24 hours I will only allow the adults visiting him right now and even then, if you wish to see the boy, you must come one at a time. It also will be for a moment only, so that you can reassure yourself that I have not cut him into potions ingredients yet. Be however prepared, Molly, it is clearly visible that he has been on his deathbed during the night."

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Well, Arthur had taken the sight of the boy much better than had his wife. He had been very quiet and pale upon leaving the boy's room, but he had been calm and collected. Molly however had not been able to keep up her facade and he had placed his hand on her shoulder while leading her back to her family, fearing the woman would break down on her way back.

But at least Arthur had kept the children calm while he had shown Molly to the boy's room.

Sitting back in his armchair beside Harry's bed again, he wondered if this was right, if he really was the right person to help the boy. He of course knew that he was one of the best Potions Masters and one of the best healers too, but he wasn't a good person and he knew that just as well. He had proven that over and over again. He was a sarcastic bastard and surely, no one like him could help anyone with their emotional issues.

His Slytherins, yes, but otherwise … definitely no …

But Molly had thanked him so much while he had led her along the corridor and then down the stairs, had thanked him for caring for Harry, had thanked him for healing him, for … for simply anything …

And nevertheless it was a question he had asked himself since the Weasleys had left more the three hours ago now.

The children had asked to see Harry too, despite his earlier words of warning, but both, Arthur and Molly, had looked at them sternly, had taken them quietly and had led them to the floo he had opened shortly so they could travel home to the Burrow without any further complications.

And now he was back here, sitting beside his son who still was fighting for his life, who still was knocking at death's doorstep, and still the only thing he could do was waiting.

At least he had prevented the entire Weasley clan to enter here like a horde of wild hippogriffs and distressing the boy further, despite Albus' attempt to interfere and to meddle. The old man didn't know the damage he could inflict with his actions. Or he knew but didn't care. But he had prevented anything that could have happened anyway and right now that was the most important thing.

Honestly, an attack was the last thing the boy would be able to handle right now, he wasn't sure if he even would survive another attack yet. Most likely the boy's heart simply would give in upon another attack.

Sighing he extended his traitorous hand and stroke a strand of black hair from the boy's pale face, ran his hand over the clammy forehead while watching the child's face intently.

What would have happened, if he had not entered the room of requirement three weeks ago? If he had not learned about Potter's abuse over those two years? If he had not gotten the boy out of number four Privet Drive?

The child would be dead by now. He simply would have died, either at the hands of his uncle, or from his seizures – or he would have died during the night from his core breaking apart. But he would have died already. He would be dead.

And he, Snape, would have learned of his death and of the circumstances of his death at the beginning of the feast, when the boy would have been missed, and it was a thought that made his chest clench in pain.

He again noticed the child's breathing pattern changing, becoming short and shallow just before it stopped yet again, and he – not for the first time – wondered if waiting any longer to take action would officially kill the boy while at the same time he still didn't know what exactly he _could_ do aside from simply waiting and keeping the child as calm as possible, and sighing he placed his hand back on the boys wrist for a pulse –

- And couldn't find one.

And again he gritted his teeth, took hold of yet another vial while at the same time hoping he wouldn't poison the boy with the overflow of potions already running through his system, but … wait …

Stopping in his movements he closed his eyes to concentrate more …

There it was, a weak pulse … too weak … too slow …

He was dying …

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Fear too was nothing that was foreign to him. He was a human being and even if he was able to control his fear instead of allowing his fears to overtake control of him and his actions, he nevertheless was not above fear and he knew that. And right now he felt this fear, a fear that nearly reached the level of panic, that nearly stole his breath for a moment, fear of losing the thirteen year old teenager that was too small and too thin for his age, that had gone through hell during the past four weeks since the holidays had started, and that right now fought for his life, the thirteen year old teenager he had disliked a great deal since three years now, whom he now had adopted only a few days ago.

Having made his mind up he called for Zilly while he pulled the blanket from the boy's still too thin body, his face set and resolute, grim, but he knew that it was his only choice left if he wanted to keep the boy alive. Harry simply was too weak to survive alone without any help and supervision, and he Snape, was too tired to care for the boy's needs with responsibility, having barely slept since a week now, since he had taken Harry from his home a week ago.

He would not do the same mistake twice.

He would not let Harry die here in this manor like he had with Charley …

Closing his eyes for a split second he remembered his now long dead friend and his eyes wandered through the room. They had known that he would die. And Charley had asked this of him, to let him die in peace, without interfering healers and potions. It had been Charley's last wish and he had ensured that it had been granted, had only given him those potions that would make it easier for the young man without trying potion over potion to prevent death, knowing that they wouldn't work anyway.

He had been desperate, and the temptation to try those potions anyway had been nearly overwhelming, but he had kept his promise, even when Charley had been laying on his deathbed. He had allowed his friend to die in peace.

When he reopened his eyes upon the soft 'pop' that announced Zilly's appearance he looked into the large and frightened eyes of his house elf.

"Please do stay here at the Manor while I am gone." He asked his nervous house elf who seemed to know that something was going on while he lifted the boy's body off the bed. "I do not know when exactly I will be back, but I need you to have an eye on the household and to keep the Manor inhabitable."

Too small, too thin, too lightweight, too weak, he realized while cradling the child into his arms. He had no muscles left on his body, he was simply skin and bones and sinews, noting more. He didn't know if there would be a chance for the child still, but right now the boy's body simply was broken and he only could hold onto the bare hope that beneath all the damage, all the abuse, trauma and damage at least Harry's mind might be still intact.

'_Surely not!'_ An annoyingly small voice answered that hope in the back of his mind. _'You have looked into his mind, you have read him, or rather you attempted to, and there is nothing left to be read. Even if you succeed in saving him, he will be nothing better than an empty shell, being lucky if he will have a good day during which he will be able to recognize you.'_

Leaving the boy's room and walking over to his study quickly he turned to his fireplace and shifting the slight body in his arms so he had one hand free he grabbed for the floo powder, threw some of it into the flames and stepping forwards he called out "St. Mungos, children's emergency ward" while he pulled the boy's head close, pressed his face into the folds of his robe that covered his chest so the sooth of the floo wouldn't go into the child's respiratory system.

"Severus!" A young man who had been sitting at a desk in the nearby office, writing in one of the files that lined the walls, threw the quill onto the table and quickly got off his chair, came over into the large common area where the floo was placed, his face getting from happy to worried the moment he saw the small figure the Potions Master was holding.

"Breaking core." Severus answered the unspoken question while – still effortlessly – carrying the boy to one of the nearby rooms he knew were for emergencies and always held empty beds. "Due to abuse, starvation and rape I guess, he is in my care since a week now, thirteen, yesterday afternoon his core started to break and I barely have been able to keep him alive since." He finished while gently laying the boy down onto the bed closest to the door.

"How long did he have the cramps?" The young man asked while helping Severus to undress the boy.

"I don't know." The Potions Master answered. "He has them since I brought him to Prince Manor. The past two days they increased in frequency and intensity. I fear he won't survive another one."

"Potions?" The young man asked while starting to examine the scars and injuries that had just started to heal yet.

"A general healing potion, healing salve, blood replenishing potion, skele-gro, nutrient potions, relaxing potions, dreamless sleep, calming draughts, stomach soothing draughts, strengthening potions, sleeping potion, core restorative draughts, heart strengthening elixir, adoption potion." Snape answered, listing all the potions while at the same time waving his wand so they would be listed on the chart he started. For a moment he hesitated when coming to the boy's name, thus not seeing the questioning gaze the young man threw at him at the mentioning of the adoption potion, but then, in a spur of the moment, he wrote down 'Harry Snape' instead of 'Harry Potter'. He was Harry's father now, and he had the right to change the boy's name.

He would have asked the boy, but that regrettably, was not possible and so he just did it.

"When have you slept last?" The young man asked without changing his tone of voice, knowing that he only would get a truthful answer from the Potions Master if he caught him off guard.

"Wednesday or Thursday, I really do not … why, you little …" The man growled, finally looking up from the chart he had been working on.

"Go to bed, Severus." The young man said, smirking at the older wizard while he inserted a needle into the vein on the boy's arm. "We will take over from here."

"I will go nowhere." Snape growled darkly, automatically waving his wand to fix the needle as well as the tube to his son's skin. Again those two words, his son, and his eyes wandered down to the boy laying in this bed in the children's emergency ward at St. Mungos, pale, about to die, and yet there were those two words – his son.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Will the healers at St. Mungos being able to save Harry's live?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	19. St Mungos

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Go to bed, Severus." The young man said, smirking at the older wizard while he inserted a needle into the vein on the boy's arm. "We will take over from here."_

_"I will go nowhere." Snape growled darkly, automatically waving his wand to fix the needle as well as the tube to his son's skin. Again those two words, his son, and his eyes wandered down to the boy laying in this bed in the children's emergency ward at St. Mungos, pale, about to die, and yet there were those two words – his son._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter nineteen **

**St. Mungos  
**

**Sunday **

When he came back inside the room, Harry still lay on the same bed he had laid him in, two hours earlier, surrounded by several devices which hovered along the walls near his bed. Numerous soft coloured magical traces ran from the devices to his body, but Severus didn't heed them too much attention. As a Potions Master he rather often worked here at St. Mungos for some time, especially during the holidays, and even if he never would admit it by free will, he _did_ prefer working here at the children's emergency ward.

And so he was used to the softly beeping and blinking devices, to tubes inserted to a children's body and the soft coloured magical traces running between the two, alerting the healers of the child's condition and any changes. Right now they were a mixture between red and blue, an indication that Harry was alive, for now, but that he wasn't out of danger yet.

What had him worried more than the magical devices was the child's physical appearance however.

From what he could tell the boy still was extremely pale and dangerously skinny. His skin was a milky white, looking almost waxy in texture and despite the food and the nutrient potions he had received after his rescue and despite the special and more thick nutrient potions they had spelled into his stomach since he was here at St. Mungos, his stomach was still an inward curve and if a thick blanket hadn't been covering most of his chest, Snape would have been able to count every single rib. He was little more than a skeleton with skin stretched tightly over him and barely any muscles left over from Quidditch and manual labour.

If it weren't for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Snape would assume him dead.

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He had been startled when Severus had brought the child over, and only his profession had kept him calm enough to act quickly and reasonably. And nevertheless it had been two hours that had passed painstakingly slow – at some points at least while at others time had rushed by and they barely had been moving quickly enough to safe the child's life.

He knew Severus since a long time now, and he knew how the Potions Master worked, had worked together with the dark and rather cool man often enough since years, but never before had he seen Severus' hands moving with such speed, desperately trying to keep the child that was his son alive. He didn't know how it had come to that, how the Potions Master had come to be this child's father, what had happened to the boy aside from the fact that he clearly had been abused for years and in a way he barely could fathom, but he had been amazed by the way Severus had moved between the child, the potions cabinets and the charmed monitors, his only focus on keeping the child with him.

He also had felt the desperation and the fear radiating off the man and he more than once had considered forcing him to take a calming potion. Yet – Severus _had_ been calm. In some ways at least.

He had suggested the man to go to bed, but that had been in vain and he had to admit that he was glad Severus had refused. He wouldn't have been able to manage alone and he knew that the man – even if exhausted and nearly panicking – he was the best. It really was a shame that Severus was wasting his time teaching potions at Hogwarts while his abilities could have been better placed here, at St. Mungos.

Well, at least he had managed to get the Potions Master out of the room for half an hour, had been able to send him to the canteen to have something to eat, to have some time out of this room and away from this child that seemed to be so important to him, whatever reason for, so he could relax a bit, could gather his thoughts and his composure.

Of course he knew that it was Harry Potter laying in this bed, the Boy-Who-Lived, he had seen the famous scar on his forehead after all, but Severus had written Harry Snape when he had filed out the chart, had mentioned an adoption potion. In other words – Severus Snape, cold and dark Potions Master, had adopted Harry Potter.

He didn't know why Severus had done this, a move that was so unlike the dour and sarcastic man, but he knew it hadn't been out of pity. Severus worked here with ill and injured children, with children that had an accident, with abused children and children, sometimes even with dying children regularly and while he always helped them to the best of his abilities, showed sympathy and understanding along his usual harsh ways while dealing with them, he never had pitied them, he always had given them the strength to see their own worth and to go on with their lives, never mind what fate sometimes had dealt out to those children here in the emergency ward.

Sighing deeply Nolan Malfoy watched Severus coming back from the canteen and with some satisfaction he noticed that the man indeed looked calmer and more collected. It had helped, being on his own for at least half an hour. If he now would be able to get the Potions Master to take a few hours' rest, he would be very glad, but at the same time he knew that Severus wouldn't do that. The man had made himself quite clear earlier, he wouldn't leave his son's side until the boy was stable and out of risk of dying.

And while the child was stable right now, he knew as well as Severus knew that he could die at any moment nevertheless.

Merlin, he didn't even know how the child had survived so long in the first place. He'd had many children coming and going throughout the years he now worked here at the children's ward, but never before had he seen one so damaged, and rarely had he seen one so young with a core that was breaking.

They had been able to stop it before part of it had broken apart actually, but the crack was there and they wouldn't be able to mend it. In other words – the child would die soon and he refused to imagine what Severus might feel the moment this happened, not now. He would deal with this the moment the boy _had_ died, he would deal with Severus the moment he had lost the son he had adopted only recently, knowing that last year during Christmas holidays his friend hadn't had a son, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to the already cracked heart of the man. But not now. Right now he had to deal with other things – like keeping the child alive as long as possible, like keeping Severus calm and focused and like at least trying to get the man to take some rest and sleep.

Sighing he went over to the bed where Severus had conjured a comfortable armchair to sit in beside his son.

"Feeling better, Severus?" He asked, only gaining a nod from the other man.

"I've brought you a sandwich too, Nolan." The Potions Master said, pointing at the plate placed at the side table and he walked over, looking at the sandwich, sighing. He knew exactly _why_ Severus had brought this – _thing_ – to him. For one reason, to keep his dignity, showing him that if he sent him away to get something to eat than he would force him to eat something just as well, and the other reason was – Severus knew exactly that he hated the sandwiches that were prepared for the night shift. The meals downstairs in the canteen was really good – during daytime. But not so during the nights.

Shaking his head and sighing he conjured an armchair similar to Severus' and then grabbed the offending thing, jut so to ease the man that had become a friend throughout the years.

"I know that you only brought this offending thing to annoy me, dear Severus, so cut that smirk off your face." He growled darkly, trying to lighten the man's mood. He only gained himself a lifted eyebrow though. Well, Severus – for once in his life – hadn't been smirking in his typical evil way he normally preferred. And so he could understand the raised eyebrow he right now received, but it had been worth a try nevertheless.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Severus sighed as he sat at his son's bedside. He gently carded his hand through the unresponsive child's raven hair, not caring if Nolan watched him. Nolan had seen him with other children and the healer knew exactly that he indeed _did_ care, despite his efforts to keep his care secret.

They had been sitting there the entire night and Nolan more than once had suggested he should lay down on one of the beds, should take a nap, should sleep for at least an hour or two, but he had given the healer his best death glare and a warning growl.

He knew enough of the disorder Harry suffered from, knew how it attacked the wizard's magical core, broke it apart, destroyed it, and killing the young wizard in the process, because no wizard could live without his magical core. Even a squib had his magical core still intact.

It was a wasting disorder, first awakened by great suffering the young wizard went trough, that then started attacking the magical core, gently, carefully, testing it, its resilience and where best to break it. But a magical core was nothing that was destroyed easily and so the disease started to attack the young wizard's immune system, similar to the muggle cancer, weakening the wizard's body further and trying to find a weak spot in the wizard's weakening magical core until it could break in.

Normally a wizard's body was strong and healthy enough to prevent this, to fight the disorder and normally it happened easily. But the severe the damage inflicted on a young wizard, the younger the wizard was while being damaged or the longer the damage lasted without being cared for, the more chances did this disorder have to actually break in and then to break the magical core apart.

It was a slow and a painful experience, he knew, and what he had witnessed last night had been just the beginning of it, but had been enough proof to him that he had been right, Harry's core was about to break. The disease already had broken into the child's core and was now working on breaking it apart from within.

He had known that his hands had trembled while he had worked alongside Nolan, but he hadn't cared about that. He also had known that he had been close to panicking while he had done all he could to keep the child's core intact, to keep it from breaking apart, to keep parts of it from breaking away and to keep the crack as small as possible, but he hadn't minded that either.

He neither had reached a point where Nolan had had to force him to take a calming potions, nor had he broken down or done any other unreasonably thing. He had acted sanely and effectively as always. And so he didn't mind. He just was glad that the boy was still alive and again he wondered how this child had managed to worm his way into his not existent heat so quickly and so deeply that he had tilted his world completely upside down.

He was not accustomed to feeling such things. He was not used to experience such worry and fear, such panic over a child dying.

Of course he always had done his best to keep the children alive, not only at Hogwarts but here at St. Mungos as well, of course he always had fought for their lives and of course he never had rested or allowed himself to stray in a critical moment, never mind his own condition, but he was not used to actually feeling so frightened, to feel so desperate and so helpless when dealing with the children here at this ward like he had last night with Harry.

'_Well, you better get used to it!'_ He told himself with a dark growl. _'The boy will die and you won't be able to prevent it. The only question it when he will die - and how. So you better get used to it!'_

He knew that there was nothing for it now. No going back, no way out and no escape. The outcome of this all was clear. This was the hand of cards he had been dealt, and the dark Slytherin was determined to lose this game with as less costs as possible. He refused to settle for anything else. It was his determination to help his son through this hell as good as possible, never mind the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to save the child in the end. He still could make it as bearable for his son as humanly possible.

"I need room to change the bedding, Professor." A female's voice got him out of his thoughts and looking up he inwardly groaned.

Not Maria!

Please don't let Maria have the early shift today!

Please don't let Maria have any shift at all while he was here with Harry!

But Maria stood there, right beside him, the soft brown gown covering her bulky and plump body, wringing her hands together and looking horrified at the bed with eyes that were transfixed.

"I have already done that, Maria." He calmly said. "There is no need to disturb this child's sleep."

"But I have to wash ..."

"I have done this already as well." Snape said, trying to stay calm.

"But that poor child!" The infernal woman nearly cried. "He needs ..."

"This child does not need your pity, Maria." The Potions Master finally growled darkly, keeping his voice low so he would not wake Harry who only would be distressed if he woke with him, Severus, displaying any kind of anger. "Nor does any other child here. These children here need our strength and our comfort, not our pity, you best remember this and if you cannot keep your profession around them, then you have chosen the wrong career."

"But what do we do?" The woman asked, nearly sobbed the question. "He will ..."

"We keep calm is what we do." He answered while getting off the armchair and taking the woman by her upper arm, leading her away from the bed and towards the door. "This child does not need adults who are scared out of their minds. He might not survive, and it surely will be far from an easy death, but we cannot do anything more for him at the present time except alleviate his pain and his fears and I will not having you distressing him any further with your sobbing and crying in front of him. If you cannot control yourself, then you will keep out of this room. Did I make myself clear?"

Snape knew that he sounded harsher than necessary, Maria only felt deeply for those children, and he also knew that he sounded surer than he felt, but the previous two days had been far too long and the recent events simply had been too much to handle. Not to mention that he knew that he was right.

He would be able to keep Harry as pain free as possible and he would be able to keep Harry as calm as possible, that he could keep the fear as far away from Harry as possible. But at the same time he knew that the boy's death would be anything else than pain free in the first place, never mind what he would do to make it as easy as possible. And he also knew that in the end Harry wouldn't be calm, that he would be frightened and scared, but he would do his best to give the boy as much strength and as much comfort as possible, would assure him that he wasn't alone, that he was there, that he wouldn't have to go through this alone.

But Maria only would distress Harry with her tears and her sobbing and he wouldn't allow this.

"It's alright, Maria." Nolan said, coming over to the two of them. He had to admit that Severus was right. There barely was a healer that was able to work together with the nurse without complaining about her sobbing nature and he could understand Severus, the man wishing to keep his son as calm as possible what wouldn't be able if Maria sobbed all over the boy and he more than once had suggested that she looked for a job in an orphanage rather than in a hospital. "I am sure that Professor Snape would like to care for his son's needs personally. Why don't you simply go on to the next room?"

"The Professor's son!" Maria gasped, shocked, her watery eyes on him, Severus, now and she now really burst into tears.

Seeing Severus' face darken and knowing that the Potions Master was close to exploding he turned the woman on her shoulders and led her out of the room, leaving behind a nearly seething Severus Snape.

"That will be quite enough, Maria." He gently said. "Please do not enter here again. Harry is the only one in here right now and Professor Snape will care for his needs personally or I will do so if he is resting. Go, and bother the other children but please, not with your tears. They need a smiling nurse, not a crying one. Make them laugh."

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The first thing he noticed – even if he knew that he wasn't wake yet – was a deep and piercing pain radiating from his core, persistent and unrelenting, and he tried to somehow ease the pain with moving, but couldn't, only that the pain got worse and he could feel himself getting scared, remembering the last time this kind of pain had overtaken, just before he had blacked out.

But a moment later the pain was nearly gone and he tried to relax as good as possible.

Severus turned with a last dark glare at the door Nolan had just closed, and a moment later he was hurrying towards the bed his son lay in, the child being in obvious pain, his breathing gettting quicker and shallower from moment to moment, the pale face covered with perspiration yet again and the eyes pressed close tightly.

Without stopping to try and comfort the boy he went past the bed and approached one of the equipments, placing his hand atop the wooden plate to attest his magical signature while waving his wand, causing the magical device to give away an added shot of pain relieving potion into Harry's system.

Only the healers or a Potions Master would be able to do this, and with attesting his magical signature he not only gave his identity away but also gave the prescription. He watched one of the magical traces changing its colour slightly and then finally turned towards the bed, satisfied with the dosage of potion that was added to Harry's system.

"It is alright, child." He softly whispered while taking a wet cloth from the bowl with clean and warm water that stood at the side table, running the soft fabric over the boy's face. "The pain will ease in a moment, the potion is already flowing through your system. It will work in a moment."

Noticing a tear forcing its way from the boy's tightly clenched eyes he run his thumb over the wet spot, wiping the lonely tear away, knowing that he only imagined it, the seconds running into minutes and minutes, knowing that in truth only a minute had passed since he had added the shot of pain reliever to the other constantly flowing potions.

And nevertheless he breathed a sigh of relief when Harry's face relaxed, the wrinkles around his eyes, his mouth and his nose eased away into nearly smooth skin that only slightly was wrinkled with the residing pain the boy felt and he gritted his teeth at the knowledge that those few signs of pain always had been in the boy's face, that he just never had really seen them, not liking the fact that they still were there yet, not liking the knowledge that they would stay there until …

Refusing to think about this he continued to run the soft fabric over the pale face, the boy's throat and chest, continued to simply speak to the boy so he may know that he was there, not knowing if he really understood his words, if he even heard him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The next thing Harry noticed was exhaustion, an exhaustion so deep, so complete, it threatened to take over his mind and draw him back to the dark nameless place where nothing mattered, where he barely had felt any pain, where he hadn't been so scared and where he had just been, not remembering things that threatened to come to his mind right now, things that he barely was able to keep locked away somewhere in some deeply hidden layers of his mind.

"… pen … eyes … can … just …" He was sure that the voice belonged to Snape, but he sounded so far away, he didn't know how to reach him. He sounded miles away and surely he wouldn't be able to run miles to reach the man!

But then – he felt someone running a wet cloth over his face. But how could the professor be so far away if he …

Maybe it wasn't the professor at all?

For a short moment he tried to force himself to open his eyes, wondering why Snape wasn't there, fearing who it might be that was with him right now. Somehow the man always was there, sitting in the armchair beside his bed. And he knew that he sat there even during the nights too. But he couldn't sense him sitting in the chair right now, he couldn't smell the mixture of lavender, tangerine and something he couldn't identify, the smell of potions that always clung to the man. But if he wasn't there, then … again he forced himself to try and open his eyes.

In vain, and only some kind of green light was coming through the small slits of his eyes for a moment before he closed them again, even that movement exhausting him and the fear increased.

He was with someone unknown, with a stranger, and Snape wasn't there and …

But then the voice came more persistent, clearer and again he tried to focus, knowing that it was the Professor's voice.

"Easy, child." He heard the man saying and he wasn't so far away anymore, he was coming! "it … alright … just open … you can … your eyes … alright … here."

Severus could see the deep exhaustion that radiated off the child despite the hours he had been sleeping, but he knew that this was normal. If he were lucky, then Harry would wake up long enough to eat something before he would fall asleep again and he continued encouraging him to open his eyes.

"Come now, child." He gently whispered while lifting the barely existent upper body from his son off the bed, into an upright position and piling pillows on the bed before laying the boy back, leaning him against the pillows so he half sat on the bed. "Open your eyes, child. It is alright, I am here. Just open your eyes, I know you can do this. You can go back to sleep soon, but you need to eat something for breakfast first. Just open your eyes, child."

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Dizzy. He felt so dizzy and all he wanted was falling back asleep, but the sensation felt familiar somehow, like he had done it a million times before. He didn't remember though when exactly that had been.

He still could hear the Potions Master's voice, gentle and encouraging, clearly now, and something in the man's deep voice encouraged him to overcome his exhaustion and tiredness, and attempt to deal with the inevitable discomfort of consciousness.

He could feel his upper body being pulled off the bed by strong hands and a moment later being lowered back into something soft. But the movement felt wrong somehow and a moment later a new sensation hit him. Something was in his throat and he couldn't breathe. There was something in his throat that blocked his ability to breathe and Harry started to panic, not knowing where he was, what was in his throat and where Snape was. He needed the man! He always had been there since … but he wasn't here now … he had left him alone … alone at a place he couldn't know … a place that smelled strange … alone … abandoned … alone … and then he started to panic, desperately trying to get away from the voice and the hands that held him, struggling against the restraint that only somewhere at the edge of his awareness felt familiar, familiar hands that held him, a familiar smell that only slowly started to override the strange smell of the place he was, a familiar voice that only slowly came back to override the strange sounds he had started to hear coming in regular intervals nearby.

And still someone held him down, held him in place with strong hands.

"Hush, child!" Snape tried to sooth the boy, grabbing his thin lower arms in one hand the moment he noticed the boy trying to get off the bed in a fit of panic and he placed his other hand onto the boy's chest, pinning him down into the pile of pillows. He had known that this might happen, after all. "Do not move, lay still. It is alright. I will get the tube off your throat the moment healer … Nolan is here."

He nearly had been about to say healer Malfoy, but he realized that this might have been not a really good idea. Harry was already frightened enough, was already panicking due to the device in his throat and he only would frighten him more if he mentioned a Malfoy. Even if Nolan had barely anything to do with Lucius aside from being the blonde Death Eater's brother.

"Calm down Harry." He soothed. "I do know that it feels strange, that it feels frightening, but you are able to breathe. It is not blocking your ability to breathe. Just try it, take a breath."

He watched the child taking a shaking breath, holding it in a desperate attempt to keep the oxygen as long as possible within his lungs and he increased the pressure he had on the boy's chest, careful to keep pressure from the barely healed ribs that had been broken and the deeper cuts that still were painful.

"Good, child." He encouraged. "And now release your breath. Very good. Now take another breath and open your eyes, look at me."

He watched the boy taking another rather hectic breath and then opening his eyes, looking around frantically, his eyes widening in terror when he took in his surroundings, the monitors and the faintly coloured magical traces that ran between them and his neck, his left arm and he tried to get his hands out of his grip, most likely trying to grasp for them in his panic but this time the Potions Master was prepared. It wasn't the first time he was in this situation, after all. The children all reacted the same upon awakening here and seeing the for them strange and frightening devices, sometimes even if they had been prepared, if he had explained to them what would happen. But there had been no time to prepare Harry.

"No, Harry." He gently soothed while carefully tightening the grip he had on the boy's wrists, keeping him from breaking free. "Do not panic. Look at me, child. Everything is alright. You are at St. Mungos and those traces are only for monitoring and for medication. Look at me!"

But still the boy didn't, unable to keep his eyes off the traces that led to the monitors and he sighed, taking his hand off the boy's chest and grabbing his chin in a gentle but firm grip, turning the boy's head towards him, away from the monitors that had him so startled, but still, despite the movement of his head the boy's eyes still lingered at them.

"Look at me, Harry!" He said, a clear command this time, and finally the boy's eyes snapped at him, wide green eyes looking at him, scared, confusion and desperation written in them. "It is alright. You are at St. Mungos. You are safe and I am here, child. No, keep your eyes on me! Everything is fine, just look at me. That's it. I know you are frightened, but I assure you, everything is fine. You had trouble breathing a few times during the night and we simply had to insert the tube to your lungs at one point or another. I will take it off as soon as healer Nolan is back. No! Keep your eyes on me." He said the moment the boy's eyes threatened to dart towards the door. They were still much too scared, more scared than they should be and he didn't dare imagining the terror the boy felt. Not now at least. He needed a clear head to keep the boy calm.

Where in Merlin's name did Nolan keep himself?

"Good." He said, acknowledging the boy's efforts to really keep his eyes on him, Snape, even if the terror in them made clear that he was not only frightened by his surroundings and the entire situation but by himself as well. "Good. Everything is just fine. Those softly coloured traces you have seen – no, keep your eyes here – they are only magical tracks, magic that has been made visible, nothing else. They will not hinder your movements and they cannot harm you. They are only for us to see so we do not have to always draw a wand and cast a diagnostic spell. They won't harm you, I promise, and even if someone pulled at them, they still won't harm you as they are nothing else than visible magic, vapour, they are not solid."

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The moment he entered the room Nolan sighed, seeing Severus trying to keep Harry calm and he hurried to approach them. He knew that none of the healers preferred being alone with one of the children that had just woken up, knowing that they were frightened, that a breathing tube had to be removed or any other device that were scaring them, knowing that often they were disorientated – and simply scared.

"Good morning, Harry." He said, trying to sound cheerful. "Admit it, you smelled breakfast."

Well, if he had thought that his joke would do any good, then he had been wrong, because the fear in the boy's too large and startling green eyes changed into terror at seeing him and intuitively he stopped, knowing that the terror was directed at him.

"Calm down, Harry." He listened to Severus' words while watching the boy close. "This is healer Nolan. I know that he looks like Lucius Malfoy, but he is not Lucius. He is Nolan and he has nothing in common with Lucius aside from his surname. He won't harm you, you have my word, Harry. You are safe here or I would not have brought you here. You are safe, no one will harm you here."

Understanding Nolan took a step backwards and then got off his brown cloak the healers of St. Mungos wore, placed it over the backrest of the armchair Severus had been sitting in earlier. He slowly pulled the wand out of the side pocked of his trousers, noticing the boy stiffening underneath Severus' restraining hands, making a sound of distress while the terror in those green eyes deepened, but he continued his movements and slowly placed his wand atop his robe.

Just then he slowly came closer again, his hands held open so the boy could see that he did not have anything that could harm him. He didn't approach the bed completely, he just came closer and then sat down into the armchair he had been sitting in earlier, trying to take a pose that was as none threatening as possible, but nevertheless all the signs of terror and distress from the boy deepened.

"Should I get another healer, Severus?" He softly asked, his eyes not leaving the boy, watching him struggling against Severus restraining hands.

Snape actually thought it through for a moment, but then he shook his head. As much as he could understand the child's reaction, he still knew that Nolan was the best and that the healer and he worked together very well. They knew each other and they knew the other one's moves and thoughts.

"No." He finally said. "It is alright. Just let us get rid of this tube so Harry will be able to calm down a bit."

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Nolan nodding and getting off his chair, and he could feel Harry stiffening beneath his hands, could see the thin face paling. He again forced the boy's chin towards himself, feeling the resistance the terrified child put up and he wondered why the boy was that much afraid of Lucius Malfoy. As far as he knew, he had met the man only once, before his second year at Flourish and Blott's and while he had to admit that the Death Eater was a man that could be frightening, there had nothing happened that would warrant such a deeply ingrained fear.

"Look at me, Harry!" He said when Nolan approached the bed from the other side, leaving his wand laying where he had placed it earlier and he knew that the man would use wandless magic to get rid of the tube in Harry's throat. "Everything will be fine, child. Look at _me_! Calm down, child. Nolan will not harm you. He only will free you from the tube. Look at me! Eyes here! Now!" He finally commanded sharply when Harry still was unable to get his eyes off the healer and again it worked, Harry's eyes shifted towards him and for a moment he could see.

Lucius at Hogwarts, shoving Harry aside roughly.

Lucius drawing his wand and casting a spell at the child that was his son.

Harry cringing at the floor in obvious pain before a house elf he recognized as Dobby could get in front of the boy.

Lucius starting to cast the avada kedavra before Dobby could use his own magic to protect Harry.

And finally Lucius threatening Harry that he would rue his actions.

"Wait." He softly said and Nolan immediately stopped in his approach.

Gently he shifted the boy on the bed, got him off the stack of pillows and slipped behind the child, wrapped his arms around the thin body and pulled him close, all the while trying to soothe his son with gentle words. Gently he placed one hand atop the child's forehead and pulled his head back and against his shoulder, nodding towards the healer while he didn't stop his flow of words, knowing that most likely Harry didn't even understand a word he said. But this wasn't important right now. Right now the only important thing was that the child heard his voice, that he didn't leave the boy alone right now, and a moment later the tube was gone from Harry's throat, the boy coughing and gasping, struggling against his grip.

"Easy child." He whispered while increasing his grip on the trembling child in his arms. "It is over, the tube is gone and everything is quite fine. You are fine. See? Nothing happened and the tube is gone. Hush now. Calm down."

Watching Nolan retreating from the bed and placing his hand atop the wooden plate at the monitors he knew that the healer had given a shot of calming potion into the boy's system. Nevertheless he slightly rocked the now sobbing boy in his arms, trying to somehow comforting the scared child.

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He knew that the next horror would come soon, too soon for his liking, but for now the child had calmed down, was laying in his arms, only still hiccupping every now and then, and he simply continued drawing circles on the boy's back while he watched Nolan going back to the armchair.

When the healer had passed the bed again he had thought that maybe he would leave the room to ease Harry's distress, but he was glad that Nolan had understood. He wanted the healer as his partner in this and Harry would have to get used to him, so – the sooner, the better. They wouldn't do any good to the boy in delaying.

"Everything is alright for now, Harry." He gently said. "The tube is off and the magical traces won't harm or limit you. You will be able to move everywhere within this room as soon as you are strong enough for doing so."

He didn't tell him that it would be a very long time until then, and neither did he tell him that he didn't believe him being alive still at that time, that the boy would die within this bed before he would be able to leave it. The teen had been through enough today, the last days, the last weeks, he didn't need to worry about that right now.

"Would you like the lights changing into a different colour?" He then asked, just to get the boy off his thoughts.

Harry started to calm down slowly, but for once he didn't mind that he had cried hysterically in the Professor's arms. He had been scared, he had been terrified, he had been … he didn't really know what exactly he had been, but it had been horrifying. He slowly understood that the healer was not Lucius Malfoy, that he only looked like the blonde Death Eater. But it had been … he still couldn't describe the feeling, but he didn't mind either, not now.

Professor Snape was there with him, he wasn't alone. And the man had held him, had calmed him, had comforted him, held him still while running his hand over his back and it felt good, it felt … never before had he felt something like this. Never before had he … well, never before had he been held, so of course he couldn't describe this as well.

Did he want to change the light?

The light had hurt his eyes when he first had opened them, but then it had changed. Now he noticed that the light in the room didn't come from candles and torches, but from balls in different sizes, which hovered midair, some of them chasing each other away if they came too close to them, others just hovering there, softly glowing and moving. Some of them were blue, while others were green, but right now he didn't care to try and find a pattern. He was too tired and too comfortable in the man's arm.

He right now didn't even care that with his nearly fourteen years he was ways too old for laying so comfortably in someone's arms and so he just shook his head. The green lights that hovered directly above him were great anyway.

Severus himself was just glad that the boy had calmed down and even if he felt the child being comfortable within his arms there at the same time was a moment of doubt crossing the teen's mind, of being too old for such, but he wouldn't have let go of his son right now anyway. Harry might be nearly fourteen, but from experiences with other children here at St. Mungos and from experiences with his own Slytherins he knew that with fourteen a child surely was not too old to be held in such a situation. And Harry was his son now, for Merlin's sake, and somehow he not only knew but he even felt that it was the right thing for a father do, to hold his son if he was scared.

"I want you to rest for a few more minutes." He softly said. "But I want you to stay awake. I want you to eat something before you go back to sleep."

The child only nodded his head against his chest.

"Harry?" He asked, slightly worried.

But again there only was a headshake coming from the boy's head against his chest and he took a slow but deep breath before releasing it just as slowly, not wanting to frighten the boy by sighing openly upon the headshake Harry had given away. If the boy needed time, then right now he should have this time. The next days would be strenuous enough for him, he feared.

A few minutes later Harry sighed.

He just had to know if Professor Snape was angry at him. He slowly had started to understand what the Potions Master had told him earlier, that he was at St. Mungos. And as it seemed he had been really worried and they did have a lot work to do because of him. Again! Again he had been a burden to the Professor!

So he carefully lifted his head and looked up at the man, nearly wincing at the pain the movement caused in his throat, knowing that speaking probably would hurt worse. But he just _had_ to know, and really, he was used to it, his throat often hurt.

"Professor Snape … Sir?" Well, he had been right. The words nearly tore his lungs out from beneath his ribs and he tensed from the effort of the spoken words.

Severus scowled at the boy in his arms when he felt the small body stiffen with pain the moment he tried to talk. He had poured down the potion that eased the scarring down his throat before they had inserted the tube, but as it seemed, it had not been enough.

"Do not speak right now." He growled darkly and he was about to call for one of the house elves to get the potion he needed, but a moment later Nolan was already beside him, the vial with the correct potion in his hand. Already feeling the fear that started to radiate off the boy again upon his comment he held the vial at the boy's lips.

"It is the potion that eases the pain in your throat." He explained before he dipped the vial, causing the boy to swallow the potion. "You of course are allowed to speak to me whenever you wish or need to, but I wanted you to take this potion first. Now what is it you wanted to ask, child?"

Again he nearly could feel the relief that flowed through the child and he frowned again. How was it that he could feel the boy's emotions so clearly?

"I just wanted …" The boy started, his voice sounding already smoother than before. "I mean, I … are you mad?"

"Why should I be, child?" The Potions Master asked, confused.

"I mean … you see … because all the trouble … and … I'm just sorry, really."

"Do not be." Snape now couldn't help sighing. "Even if I told you to not ignore the signs of your seizures, this would have happened anyway. You did not cause any troubles, Harry, your relatives did and I am not angry at you. There is no reason for you to apologize at all. I am just glad that you are still alive, Harry. I do not wish to frighten you, but the damage your relatives caused is serious and I do not want you to take this lightly."

"But … but I'm ok now." The boy had the audacity to say. "I mean, I'm … it's no big deal, it's not the first time, after all."

"No big deal." Snape scowled at the boy. "It has taken me fourteen different potions during the past forty-eight hours to keep you alive, and some of them in a double dose. What do you think, Mr. Snape?"

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Some tests, some observations and some thoughts_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	20. no other option

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Do not be." Snape now couldn't help sighing. "Even if I told you to not ignore the signs of your seizures, this would have happened anyway. You did not cause any troubles, Harry, your relatives did and I am not angry at you. There is no reason for you to apologize at all. I am just glad that you are still alive, Harry. I do not wish to frighten you, but the damage your relatives caused is serious and I do not want you to take this lightly."_

_"But ... but I'm ok now." The boy had the audacity to say. "I mean, I'm ... it's no big deal, it's not the first time, after all."_

_"No big deal." Snape scowled at the boy. "It has taken me fourteen different potions during the past forty-eight hours to keep you alive, and some of them in a double dose. What do you think, Mr. Snape?"_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty **

**No other option**

**Monday**

'_He knew that the next horror would come soon, too soon for his liking.'_

Yes, he had known.

He had known it, but he hadn't really been prepared for this. He had known it, but he wasn't ready to do what had to be done.

Merlin! He had done such things before! He had been forced to partake in the Dark Lord's games before, had been forced to torture, to inflict pain, even if he secretly had done what he could to do it as less painful as possible or to end a life as quickly as possible if necessary or unavoidable. But he _had_ done this before.

But never on a helpless child!

Never on a person he cared so deeply for!

And never on a child that …

With a growl of frustration, Snape passed a hand over his face, roughly rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before he took another sip of his water.

Bloody Potter! The boy was a mass of contradictions! At Hogwarts, he was so arrogant and foolhardy that he had been certain of his 'spoilt brat' assumption, but now it turned out that he was wrong – so _very_ wrong, in fact, that he was undergoing an unwelcome, yet unstoppable paradigm shift. And the boy had been abused from a _very_ early age, no less.

And he, Snape, he had either missed or ignored the signs – as had _all_ the staff.

Yet – he had the uncomfortable feeling that he simply had ignored them, preferring to nurse his dislike of anything that the name Potter stood for, because in retrospect the signs had been there, clearly and undeniable – especially in the way the boy completely failed to trust any adult.

Thinking back on all the classes that Severus had had with Harry, he remembered all the times the boy had flinched whenever he had been around other people and how he had been avoiding touch so very skilled that it nearly had been unnoticeable, but only nearly, he _could_ have seen it, if he had wanted to. And he always had been so much smaller and thinner than any child his year! Even right now he easily could pass for a first year rather than a would-be fourth year.

"I can't believe I didn't notice!" The Potions Master quietly growled at himself. "All the signs had been right there, always! The flinching, the avoidance of touch, the _underweight_! And I have not seen them!"

And none of them had noticed while the boy himself had not dared to approach any of them, Merlin! Even _he_ would have helped the child if he had known.

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

Why was this particular sentence the boy had written to the Darkmaster so deeply ingrained into his brain that he wasn't able to forget it anymore? Why was he remembering this particular sentence over and over again? _  
_

And now it was too late.

They could have done something if they had known when Harry had entered the magical world, three years ago. They could have done something to prevent the child's core from breaking at all, they could have done something about the child being abused in such a cruel way three years ago, they could have _… _they could have done _anything_!

"What did Lucius do this time, Severus?" Nolan asked quietly the moment Harry was back to sleep, pulling him out of his thoughts and he was sure that the man had done it on purpose.

"The cruciatus." Snape answered calmly, knowing how much it upset the healer that he – and not for the first time – had a child here that had been hurt by his brother's hands. Draco had been one of them, once, after he – Severus – had brought them to St. Mungos while he had been staying with him for a few days during the holidays. Arden Grandee had been another one, as had been Joseph Richards, and the sixteen year old had not survived. "Two years ago, if I am correct."

"I don't understand him!" The healer ranted angrily. "Why does he do this? They are children! Isn't it enough for him to torture adults what is already bad enough?"

"He does believe that his ways are right." Severus simply answered. "He does believe that he has the right doing so, and he does believe that the Dark Lord will regard him with power when he comes back and learns that he has kept true to those ways the Dark Lord expected from his Death Eaters."

"And I have to pick up the children he leaves on his path of destruction to try and put them together again." Nolan groaned. "I would like visiting him and giving him a piece of my mind!"

"It would not help, Nolan." The Potions Master shook his head. "In all likelihood he would laugh at you at the best and kill you at the worst. Your only chance is to go on picking up those children your brother leaves on his path of destruction."

"I know." Nolan sighed. "But it is frustrating each time again."

There was a pause during which Severus pondered about all their possibilities, hoping to find a way to avoid doing the tests he knew had to be done.

Muggles did tests while using blood, but he knew that this would not be possible with a wizarding child. A wizard's blood was so closely tied in with the wizard's magic that one drop of it was enough to do horrible things. And there were so many magical crimes, horrible crimes that could be done with even just one single drop of blood, that there didn't even exist something like a blood bank or blood donations in the wizarding world – what had been the reason the blood replenishing potion had been invented at one point or another.

But as magically strong as a wizard's blood was, it was impossible to use it for a magical test – for tests of any illnesses, yes, for tests of any physical diseases, yes, that too, but not for testing magical ailments.

He couldn't use cells or anything else similar either, as the magical core of a wizard wasn't an organ like the heart or the lungs, like the kidneys or like the liver. It was nothing visible. A wizard _did_ feel his core, yes, of course, and a healer could scan the core, yes, and nevertheless it wasn't anything physical, it was nothing that could be healed with a surgery. It was just there, not quite but similar to the soul.

He couldn't use a spell or a potion to do those tests either, he couldn't just wave his wand casting a 'core-diagnostic spell' and then there would a parchment be appearing, informing him of the damage found and there was no potion existent that could be given and then the body part would glow in some colour or another, informing him what was wrong with it.

The magical core of a wizard could be scanned, yes, to learn how depleted the core was after magical strain for example, but not for this, not for breaking apart.

"Do you want me doing the tests, Severus?" Nolan asked, again disturbing his thoughts and again Snape had the strange feeling that the healer had done this on purpose. At least the man watched him closely and he scowled at him darkly and in his best Snape mannerism.

"Do you think I am incapable of doing this?" He growled darkly, knowing well that this had not been the man's reasoning to ask his question.

"No, Professor Healer Snape." Nolan answered, a smirk on his face, and he was sure that the man knew exactly that he didn't like this particular title. "I just thought that you were a bit too much involved, emotionally."

"Do you call me emotional, Malfoy?" He growled darkly, his dark eyes threatening.

"I never would do such a thing, I am not suicidal after all."

"I will be perfectly able to do the testing on my son myself." He continued growling at the healer, not really knowing why he did refuse the man's offer. It would be so much easier not having to do this. "I have inflicted pain before and I do not care about the brat anyway."

"Hmm." Nolan made, watching him calmly. "Whatever you say, Severus."

Blasted healer! All of them! They all were the same – and Nolan was the worst of them!

Of course he would be able doing this!

And nevertheless he still contemplated ways to prove or disprove the boy's core breaking for sure without further traumatizing the gravely abused boy, just when Potter gave a soft whimper away, his eyelids twitching and nevertheless Snape stood immediately, approaching the bed and carefully picking up the painfully thin wrist to check the now much stronger pulse before gently sitting down at the edge of the big bed to wait patiently for the boy to regain consciousness.

And with bleary eyes, the boy who had seen too much and been through even more opened his eyelids to the soft green and blue light of the room.

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"I have a couple of potions that I need you to take." He started the moment the boy was awake, his eyes looking at him, recognizing him, but before the blasted brat could worm his way into his not existent heart again with his whatever it was he always did to him. "One is a potion that will strengthen you for the next few hours. One will keep you alert and from falling unconscious and another one will sensibilise your nerves. After that I need to do some physical testing to asses the damage of your magical core. I would give you a pain reliever, but I must know the damage even if it causes you pain and therefore I need your reactions to the tests. In other words, I can give you the potion only _after_ the testing."

"What do you mean, sir?" The boy asked and he could sense the fear in the child's voice, knowing that he already had lost, that the boy _again_ had managed the impossible, namely to worm his way into his cold heart. "What's wrong with me?"

"Mr. Snape, to begin categorizing what is wrong with you would take me well into the new school year." He drawled, trying to keep himself as unaffected as possible. "Why do we not leave that exciting list for later? Just take those potions now." He added, taking one of the vials and holding it at the boy's lips, ready to dip the small glass bottle and feeding its contents to the boy.

Well, again the snarky Snape was back, but at the same time he could hear that something was wrong, and he could see it too. The man's voice didn't hold as much malice as it used to for the past three years and the man definitely looked worried. Really worried. And he sounded worried.

But he was at St. Mungos now, and therefore he was safe now, wasn't he? And he felt much better already, much stronger, and therefore he surely was better already, wasn't he? But Snape acted as if … and he had called him Mr. Snape. He had adopted him, yes, he knew that – sometimes at least , when he was clear. And he dimly remembered having heard the man calling him that before. But … it always had been Potter, or Mr. Potter at the best!

It must be because Snape knew something was wrong with him. He was being less menacing and he was going easy on him because he was really sick, or poisoned, or cursed, or dying, or –

"I mean it, Mr. Snape, those potions!" Snape growled darkly. "Do not make me tell you again."

Alright – so much for being less menacing and so much for going easy on him and quickly he nodded, accepted the potion Snape then poured into his mouth, grimacing at the taste of something he couldn't even name yet. But a moment later the next bottle was placed at his lips and obediently he swallowed the now tasteless liquid and then the third one that tasted of a mixture of old bread and spoiled milk.

"Alright." Snape said, steeling himself for the inevitable. "I am sorry for what I will have to do now, but I must evaluate the damage to your magical core now, so that I can begin brewing the potions that you will need and I am afraid it will be uncomfortable at the best and very painful at the worst. I will try to be as quick as I can be, but I cannot begin to heal the damage without doing those tests. Do you understand?"

Painful?

Uncomfortable at the best and very painful at the worst?

But he didn't want to feel more pain!

Had he not been in already enough pain? He didn't want more of it! He knew what pain felt like and he didn't want to feel any more of it! He didn't … he wanted to be left alone … he wanted … he didn't want …

Panic brought bile to his throat and his chest tightened painfully as he realised Snape had no intention of permitting him his simple desire of being left alone and his breathing heavy his eyes darted between the two men, coming to rest on Snape, who was currently standing beside the table to his left. Taking his chance, he shot from the bed and darted towards the open door, adrenaline racing through his veins, giving him the momentarily strength of doing so.

He just had to get out of here! He had to … he just had to …

Severus Snape turned from the table at the sudden movement, already having anticipated some similar stunt from the boy, and he was across the room in lightning speed, grabbing a hold of a thin upper arm. Harshly, he yanked the boy back towards the bed and spun him around until he had him in a secure grip, pressing the struggling boy's back to his chest so he could inflict damage on neither himself nor him, Snape.

The teen struggled to free himself, pulling and yanking against the restraint, but the older wizard maintained a strong grip while at the same time trying to not cause any more pain to the already frightened boy, knowing that most likely the potion that would sensibilise the boy had already kicked in.

"I don't … I just don't …" The boy whimpered out while trying a last attempt to break free.

"I know, child." The Potions Master calmly said, effortlessly keeping his strong grip on the struggling teen. "You do not want to feel any more pain, and there is nothing wrong with wanting that. And I _am_ sorry that we have to do this, but it simply is inevitable."

He barely had spoken his last word when the boy stopped his struggling, slumping in his arms, his last reserves gone and he nearly lost his grip on him at the unexpected breakdown.

Gently he ran one arm behind the boy's knees while shifting his other and he scooped the boy up into his arms, carried him back to the bed and carefully laid him back down, throwing the extra pillows over to the armchair he had been sitting in earlier to move them out of the way so he had the boy laying flat while he worked on him.

Potter watched him warily, understanding showing in his frightened eyes, turning into panic and his breathing started to speed up again, to become shallower and shallower as he unsuccessfully fought down his rising and overwhelming sense of panic and dread at the thought of even more pain to come yet. And the worse of it was – he could understand the boy.

Snape slowly reached out his hand and placed it at the thin chest, running over the cold skin in a soothing pattern.

"Concentrate on my hand, child." He gently said. "You need to slow down your breathing before you hyperventilate. Slower! I know that you are scared, and I do understand. Anyone would be scared. Breath slower! But that doesn't change the fact that it simply has to be done. Breathe in! Keep the air in your longs for a second and concentrate on my hand. And now breathe out and wait a second before taking a new breath. That's it … slower … slower… good. Continue breathing like this." He kept his well trained voice soft and soothing as he tried to send as much calmness over to the distraught teen as he could manage.

Harry felt the panic leaving his body as he concentrated on the feeling of the warm hand stroking over his chest in an even and comforting pace and he wondered how Snape could be treating him like this instead of being mad at him, hating him, being disgusted by him, but right now it simply felt too good for him to worry too much and so he just nodded once again, hoping to keep the man close beside him, drawing comfort from the presence of the older wizard.

"Are you feeling better?" Snape asked and again he could hear the worry in the Potions Master's voice.

He looked up at the man that had tormented him for the last three years and wondered why he was acting so nicely toward him. Was he really going to die and Snape just didn't want him to know or was it just a matter of not kicking someone when they were down? Harry couldn't figure out the man's motives but for now he was entirely helpless to begin with and so he would be at Snape's mercy whether he wanted to be or not.

And therefore he might as well co-operate with him.

"Good. Try to lay as still as possible." He said after the boy had nodded at him and he took a deep breath, his hand still on the boy's chest. "And try to breathe as calmly as possible. I will not lie to you, this won't be a walk in the sunshine and part of it will be very painful, but it simply has to be done and I suggest that we get it over with as quickly as possible. I apologize for causing pain to you but I have to do this. I will try to be as quick as I can."

He took another deep breath before finally pulling his hand off the boy's chest and grabbing one of the too thin wrists firmly.

Harry closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, already feeling the loss of the warm hand on his chest as Snape removed it to grab his wrist and he couldn't help flinching at the touch, knowing that Snape would hurt him.

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Snape pulled the boy's hand closer to him and began moving the thin fingers, probing them, watching Harry's face closely to note every reaction. It was calm still, giving nothing away aside from the fear the boy felt, the green eyes not expressing anything related with pain and he was satisfied. But knowing it wouldn't stay that way he sighed and took a jar from the nightstand, knowing that he simply had no other chance.

The grejinward gel within would do nothing to the skin itself, it wouldn't damage the skin over the boy's fingers and he would be able to wash it away afterwards, and nevertheless he had to force himself to dip his own finger into the creamlike substance and to apply it to the skin over his son's fingers, knowing that while it didn't hurt him, Snape, it would hurt someone whose core was damaged.

Gently he then again moved those thin sticks the boy might call fingers, knowing that the gel reacted with the child's core and the nerves on his fingers that were still not healed in the first place yet, and this time he could see the child taking a sharp intake of breath, his fingers twitching momentarily as if he wanted to pull them away but then thought otherwise and he knew that the boy felt the pain running between his core and his fingertips, even if he didn't give any other sign of pain away.

Taking a wet flannel he gently wiped the gel away from the small hand and repeated the same with the boy's right hand, his wand hand, and this time the reaction was a bit stronger, the nerves on this hand being used to channelling the magic between his core and the wand he held and therefore hurting more at the appliance of the gel that reacted now between them and the core.

He again gently wiped the grejinward from the boy's fingers and repeated the procedure on the pale forehead, running his fingers over the clammy skin before applying the creamlike substance and then touching the sensitised spot, forcing himself to ignore the increasing fear in the boy's eyes.

He knew that even if painful it still was bearable but the fact that Harry showed no other outward sign than his fear deepening and a slight tensing of his muscles told him enough of how much used to pain this child was. Any other child would have shown a much stronger reaction to the treatment already.

It took him more than an hour to check all the spots that were related to the magical core of a wizard, an hour during which the boy had laid still, enduring the treatment without complaining and without struggling once, but an hour during which those green eyes had gone more frightened than he was comfortable with, during which the thin chest moved too quickly for his liking and during which the boy's muscles had started to tense up even more.

And it wasn't over yet. In fact it had just began yet.

Gritting his teeth to steel his own emotions against the next test he took a needle and dipped it into the grejinward before taking the boy's hand again, in a firm grip this time so he wouldn't be able to pull away, and quickly he pricked the boy's forefinger, driving the needle deep enough so the gel wouldn't just sit directly under the skin but was injected deeper into the boy's finger. He just as quickly pulled the needle back out, but he knew that the worst would stay, the gel that he could not wipe away this time, that would work as a catalyst between the child's core and nerves until late into the night and without delaying, knowing that it was important that he got this over with as soon as possible, he repeated the same with each finger before again moving them, prodding them, while searching the boy's now strained face.

"I know it hurts." He quietly said. "And I am sorry for this. Try to stay as calm as possible and try to breathe deeply, it will help. I will do this as quickly as I can."

Well, in the end, after yet over another hour Snape only could try to keep the boy as calm as possible by talking to him, knowing that in all likelihood the child didn't even hear him, or that he at least didn't understand his words anymore while pain added to pain and fear changed into desperation and panic, and while he followed the boy down the spiral of pain and terror, fighting with everything he had to stay detached and useful, able to do what he needed to, he felt the reality of the world outside this room at St Mungos slip away into nothingness and unimportance.

Gritting his teeth and refusing to look over at Nolan, knowing that the other healer only would see his own pain and his own desperation on his face he took the potions vial from the nightstand for the next testing and unstoppered the small glass bottle, held it at the boy's lips and dipped the vial, pouring its contents into the boy's mouth and then coaxing the boy to swallow it, remembering the boy's words, what his uncle had done, his reluctance to take the potions back then, when he had found him at number four, at his relatives' house and he knew that this here only added to the child's fear and terror, that it would not do any good to the child.

And yet, he knew that he had no other chance while he waited for the potion to take effect, trying to comfort the boy as good as possible during this short break by placing his hand at the side of the child's face, running his thumb over the pale and damp cheeks, knowing that he better didn't touch any spot he had prodded with the needle, knowing that the grejinward gel applied to the child's numerous body parts still burned like fire.

His son had calmed down a bit, he realized, was resting while he could, but it had been slow going so far, much slower than he had hoped for, and the boy had had tears of pain running down his face before they even had been halfway through the procedure. He never would admit it to anyone, but it had been almost as difficult for him to keep inflicting this kind of pain on his utterly helpless son as it was for the child to have to lie there and be stuck over and over again without mercy. He had more than once had to steel his heart against the boy's sobs and soft cries of anguish, and to force himself to continue with the testing.

This short moment of peace however, during which the worst pain had ceased a bit, during which the child had been able to rest, was over _too_ soon and a moment later the boy writhed against the bed, tossing his head from side to side, desperation radiating from his entire being, most likely knowing that he wouldn't be able to handle the pain any longer, most likely wanting nothing else than to rest, to close his eyes and to sleep, wanting nothing else than for the pain to go away.

Snape knew, but he forced himeslf to continue nevertheless.

Nolan watched the Potions Master and he knew that the man avoided looking at him, tried to hide his own pain from him, his own horror and his own desperation, and at the same time he knew that there was no other way. His gaze went back to the child he had been trying to keep as still as possible during the last testing by restraining him, knowing that he didn't do any good to the child while he did so, but at the same time knowing that the there was nothing he could do against it, that it simply had to be done.

He hated this!

And in those moments he hated his job!

A moment later the boy started to move, the small body cramping, curling into a small ball while he threw his head back, the pale face a mask of pain and another moment later the child's mouth opened in a scream of agony and horror and he was at the boy's side in a second, beat only by Severus to it.

"Leave him be." Snape growled, his voice trembling at seeing the child in so much pain, as did his fingers when Nolan tried to restrain the boy again. "Leave him the freedom of at least trying to relieve the pain. Just cast this blasted spell to get a diagnostic."

He knew that it would be harder to watch the child writhing in pain, unable to do something than actually fighting him down and restraining him, but he would not take this freedom away from the boy.

Again he tried to talk to the child, to his son, knowing that this time it really was in vain, knowing that the child had entered his own world of pain and that he could do nothing to pull the child out of it, he could do nothing to ease the pain and he could do nothing to give comfort aside from at least trying and talking to the child while again moving the boy's fingers, prodding them. He had to pry the small fingers that were cramped into fists apart first and he again tried to be as gentle as possible while at the same time as quick as possible.

After that he simply forced himself to continue again, running his fingers over the places that were related to a wizard's magical core, prodding the child here and there, moving limbs and watching his son's reaction to the pain he inflicted on him and it did absolutely nothing to relieving his own horror and there was absolutely nothing he could do against the agony he himself felt by watching the small body of his son cramping, arching up on the bed, while listening to the agonized screams that got hoarser and weaker minutely, maybe even damaging the already scarred throat more.

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Again it had been over an hour, a bit more even than the tests before as the small and writhing body under his hand had often been able to slip away from his grip and he'd had to repeat the tests more than once, and it had seemed like an eternity to both wizarding healers before Snape finally been able to finish them and had finally been able to feed the child a pain relieving potion and then a dreamless sleep potion, had allowed him to sink into unconsciousness of a dreamless sleep.

He made sure the child was completely out of it before he allowed himself to sink down onto the edge of the bed beside his now deeply sleeping child and he dropped his head into his still shaking hands, shuddering with his own agony, realizing that never mind how much he had steeled his heart, never mind how detached he had kept himself, and never mind how often he had told himself that he didn't care – in the end he had lost, in the end he _did_ care, and in the end he did care even more than he was ready to admit, in the end it had hurt him more than he was ready to admit.

A soft hand on his shoulder caused him to lift his head, his dark eyes still full of anguish and distress before he recognized the form of Nolan standing quietly with a square glass tumbler half full of a softly glowing and smoking amber liquid.

He didn't even lift his eyebrow at Nolan offering him some of his special – and definitely strongest – whiskey he had, and he didn't even mind his hand that took the tumbler shaking more than it ever had in his entire life before while he leaned back against the foot of the bed, running his other trembling hand through his hair before he gratefully took a long swig of the potent liquid his friend had offered him.

Nolan watched his friend close, noticing the pale face that was covered in a fine film of perspiration, noticing the dark eyes that were haunted with the terror he had inflicted on his own son and he squeezed the man's shoulder for a moment before sitting down into the chair he had been sitting in hours ago as soon as the glass was safely transferred to the other wizard's trembling hand, keeping himself from steadying Severus' hand, knowing that the gesture would not be welcomed, not even from him and the Potions Master allowed him more than he would anyone else – well, aside from Herbaceous maybe.

He took a sip of the amber liquid himself, thanking his father in law for annealing his own – well, sort of whiskey, even if most whiskey drinkers wouldn't call it that. It was the strongest he ever had tasted and he gasped after he'd had a swig, but in situations like this one right now, he was grateful for the man sending him a bottle to St. Mungos every now and then.

He knew that Severus' son would be out of it for hours, most likely for the reminder of the day and for the entire night, until tomorrow morning, and until then they couldn't do anything anyway. He also had arranged the late shift as well as the night shift at the children's emergency ward so that he wouldn't be needed but that he could call someone whenever necessary with the boy.

He always did so when having a situation like this, when he didn't know what would be the outcome of any treatment he had to do. It wasn't often that he had to make such plans, that he didn't know how long a treatment would go or if he would be able to work after that, but it happened from time to time. Like today.

They had placed the pillows Severus had thrown over into the armchair earlier back onto the child's bed as well as the blanket, and then the Potions Master had tucked the boy in, but the Severus nevertheless had not been sitting back into his now free armchair, had remained seated at the edge of the bed his son lay in sleeping instead.

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"Go to the canteen and eat something, Severus." He quietly said.

It was dark outside since hours now, and yet the Potions Master had to get up from this bed he still was sitting at, he yet had to pull his hand away from the boy's hand he had taken into his own earlier, the back of the small and thin hand laying in his much larger palm while he was moving the palm of his other hand unconsciously over the soft skin that had not been punctured with the needle covered with grejinward and he knew what the other wizard was doing, that he was trying to comfort not only the child, his son, but himself as well, sending calming magic over to the sleeping child.

"I will go no where." The man growled darkly.

"He is sleeping, Severus." Nolan said, heaving a sigh. Sometimes Severus really was one of his worst patients ever. Not that it happened often that he had his friend and colleague as a patient, but it happened from time to time, the man trusting no one with his health than him, Nolan, or himself and during those times he nearly constantly cursed the man's stubbornness. "And he won't wake anytime soon."

"_I will go no where_!" Severus repeated, more irritably now, but he knew that he wasn't angry at him, but at himself.

"Severus, please be reasonable." He said. "Harry is sleeping and he won't …"

"What part of '_I will go no where_' did you not understand, healer?" The other wizard growled, slowly looking up at him and his voice nearly sounding threatening.

"I do not care if you are dropping right now and here, Professor Healer Snape!" He finally said, getting off from his own armchair and coming close to the Potions Master, neither impressed by the man's threatening tone nor by his self mutilation, knowing that there only was one way if Severus was like this, hoping that he had the strength left to deal with this right now. "But seeing that you have _not_ rested since you have taken the child from his relatives, that you have _not_ slept since days before you brought the child here and that you have _not_ rested since he _is_ here – you maybe should consider what is best for your _son_ instead of what is best for _you_."

"What exactly is it you are accusing me of?" Severus asked, finally releaseing his son's hand and slowly getting to his feet so he was at the same height as was he, Nolan.

"I accuse you of nothing, Professor Healer Snape." He darkly growled forcing his own tiredness away, knowing that he had to if he wanted to win this fight with the Potions Master right now. "But your self mutilation trip will _not_ help your son that will need you when he awakens in a few hours. He will not need a _wrack_ but a man that is clear and rested and has enough strength for whatever will be necessary then."

"Are you implying that I won't be able to handle my son?" The Potions Master growled darkly. "Are you implying that I would jeopardy my son's health?"

"Exactly that is what I am doing." He calmly answered.

"You …" The other wizard took a threatening step towards him and he could see the anger flashing in the man's still too pale face, but then it was gone as quickly as it had come and his friend sharply turned and walked over to the window, standing there and gazing into the darkness beyond.

Well, one hurdle cleared, the Potions Master at least had moved, had gotten off the bed and had taken his eyes off his son for once, and so he waited, knowing that he at least would have to give the man the chance to make his next move.

"You will wake me the moment my son just as much as blinks an eye or you will have to explain to your wife why you won't be able to leave a bed by yourself anytime soon – preferably _forever_."

"Of course." Nolan said, nearly smirking, knowing that this was Severus' way to keep the upper hand in a situation he already had lost, knowing that it had been an idle threat, that the man never would hurt him, while at the same time realizing that it hadn't been a request but an order.

One he would respect.

Wordlessly the Potions Master walked back to the bed while waving his wand at the same time, transfiguring the armchair he had been sitting in earlier, hours ago actually, into a mixture of a bed and an armchair and sat down, leaning back. He watched the boy for a while longer before finally closing his eyes, showing him, Nolan, that he would chose his own time when he went to sleep, but a few minutes later his pale and drawn face relaxed a bit and his breathing evened out.

Sighing with relief Nolan closed his own eyes for a moment before taking a blanket from another bed and spreading it over the man's still form before he waved his wand and changed the transfigured mixture of an armchair and bed the man had produced into a bed entirely. The fact that Severus didn't wake upon the movement the transfiguration caused told him enough of the grade of exhaustion the man suffered from and he settled down himself, preparing himself for long hours of night watch over the man and his son, working over the details he had learned about the situation in his head.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The results of the tests, the day after and realiations  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	21. what, where, when, who, why?

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_Sighing with relief Nolan closed his own eyes for a moment before taking a blanket from another bed and spreading it over the man's still form before he waved his wand and changed the transfigured mixture of an armchair and bed the man had produced into a bed entirely. The fact that Severus didn't wake upon the movement the transfiguration caused told him enough of the grade of exhaustion the man suffered from and he settled down himself, preparing himself for long hours of night watch over the man and his son, working over the details he had learned about the situation in his head._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-one**

**What, where, when, who, why?**

**Tuesday**

The first test he had done, applying the grejinward gel to the boy's skin, had been proof that the boy's magical core already was breaking apart. The gel had reacted with the child's core and the nerves on the skin, and while it didn't hurt a normal person, it hurt a person whose core was breaking apart. And as it had been painful for Harry, the test had been proof that Harry's core _was_ breaking.

The second test, applying the grejinward under the boy's skin, it had showed him how damaged the boy's core already was, if there were only small cracks or large breaking lines and how many there might be, and as the boy's reaction to that tests had been very strong, he knew that there were not only small cracks, but that there was more than one breaking line in the child's core. Two or even three, he guessed, if he had thought over everything correctly, the child's reaction to the first test during which he had learned that the boy was very well used to pain in the first place, and his reactions to the second test compared to the first one.

The third test, the one where he'd had the boy swallowing the grejinward potion, it had showed if those breaking lines were just on the surface of the core or if they went deeper, if they even might go through, if parts of the core had fallen off already. And while he was sure now that they indeed _did_ go deeper than just cracking the surface, he at least was sure that no part of the core had broken away already.

That surely meant something, didn't it? That surely was something they could work with, wasn't it?

_'No – you idiot!'_ He scowled at himself. _'Since when do you believe in false hope? It only means that the child would survive another day!'_

Sighing he ran his hand over his still tired face.

Merlin! He had hated causing so much pain to the child! He had hated watching his son writhing under his hands, watching his son's body arching up on the bed with pain while he had done those tests, especially the last one, and he had hated having to continue those blasted tests nevertheless!

He was a man well used to pain. He was used to inflict pain and he was used to feel pain himself. But this simply had been too much, even for him and he'd had to force himself to continue the testing.

So no, it was no wonder that he already was awake now, unable to fall back to sleep and watching the child instead, thinking it all over again and again. Harry's core was breaking and it was not only breaking on the surface but with deep lines running through the core while at the same time it still held.

The question was – how long would it hold. When would be the next attack, and how strong would this attack be?

He already had set the boy onto core strengthening potions as well as relaxing potions. The core strengthening potion would strengthen the child's magical core hopefully enough so that he would survive the next attack at all, while the relaxing potion would keep the threat of a new attack at a minimum in the first place.

But he also knew that he wouldn't be able to go on like this forever. With only the core strengthening potions and the relaxing potions, the inevitable would be delayed, but not prevented completely in the first place.

When he had done those tests he already had _known_ that the child's core was breaking apart, never mind how much he had tried to hope that this wouldn't be the case, he only had fooled himself with this hope, but he also had hoped that the tests would show only slight cracks on the surface. He would have been able to handle them then. The relaxing potions and the core strengthening potions would have done well in this case, it would have given them a few years. But with deep breaking lines going through the core – those potions wouldn't do much and each attack could be the one that killed the child.

And so he was back to square one – namely the article he had started writing for 'Potions Monthly', which he had not finished yet due to his obsession with the 'room of requirement' and then with caring for Potter who was now a Snape. Yet – he didn't mind that he had not finished the article. The article had become unimportant at all, as it was the potion he had invented, that had become more important than anything else.

The problem was – the potion didn't work.

The article in 'Potions Monthly' had been a chance to get other Potions Master's opinions and thoughts from all over the world, on this, maybe getting a solution to the problem, but he had not finished it and therefore it wouldn't be published – and _therefore_ he wouldn't get another Potions Master's thoughts on this in the first place.

On the other hand – while he would have to wait for their thoughts, and therefore for _maybe_ a solution, Harry could have a lot of new attacks and so – it wouldn't have helped in the first place at all. He needed a solution as to why his potion didn't work right now and not after the next edition of 'Potions Monthly'.

"Three hours, Severus, three hours and you think that will be enough sleep after being exhausted completely." Nolan's voice drawled from the doorway and he turned his head, lifted his eyebrow at the tall man.

"Do you have any problems with my sleeping habits, Healer Malfoy?" He drawled back, his dark eyes daring the man to do something against him being awake already.

"No, Professor Healer Snape." The man answered unimpressed. "Just with the lack thereof. I just did notice it. How is the boy?"

"He's still asleep and his vital signs are stable." He answered calmer upon realizing that Nolan wouldn't say anything else. "I already have set him on a core strengthening potion and a relaxing potion, a dose every six hours."

"Good." Nolan answered, coming over, his eyes on the boy's face. "I would have suggested the same, but I wanted to wait until you were awake to give your consent. The child is your son after all."

"Indeed." Severus growled, again challenging him to comment his decision to adopt a nearly fourteen year old teenager that was about to die, but no comment came aside from a raised eyebrow at his growling and so he leaned back.

"While I have been in the canteen, I have contacted my father." Nolan calmly continued, ignoring Severus' grumpiness today and his sensitive reactions when it came to his son. Of course he wondered how this had happened, how it had come to Severus – _Severus_ of all people – adopting a teenager, and a dying teenager no less, but he had some sense of survival after all and so he surely wouldn't question the grumpy Potions Master on this.

He only feared that it would lead to the man's already damaged heart breaking completely the moment the boy died.

_"I will be perfectly able to do the testing on my son myself. I have inflicted pain before and I do not care about the brat anyway."_

He knew that this had been a blatant lie. Not that Severus had inflicted pain before, he knew that he had, but he also knew that he always had hated this nearly as much as had he, Nolan. He however knew that it had been a blatant lie that he didn't care about the – _brat_. All his actions had shown that he indeed did care _very_ much, no matter how much he claimed he didn't.

When he had brought the child through the floo, he nearly had been frantic and never before had he seen this particular man in such a desperate and nearly panicky rash of tending to a patient than he had done back then, even if his hands had trembled like mad. Merlin! He hadn't even known that a human's hand could move as quickly and yet accurately as Severus' hands had moved back then – despite their trembling.

And then the man had been sitting beside the boy's bed before the testing, not leaving his eyes off the child for one moment. He also had seen how much it had pained the man to do those tests, how desperate Severus had been himself, and there had been more than one point during which he had thought that the other wizard would not be able to continue, that he would not be able to force himself to go on with inflicting pain upon his own son. And after that Severus _again_ had been sitting beside the boy, on the bed even, while refusing to let go of the small and thin hand - at least not until he had baited him into taking a break and sleeping.

And now the man was awake again – much too soon, he dared to add – after three hours of sleep only, and worrying over the boy again. So – Severus might claim that he didn't care about the – _brat_ - as long as he wished, he simply didn't believe him. And therefore he knew that the boy's death would only add to the breaking the man's heart suffered from since Lily's death.

"Need more of this brewage your father calls whiskey?" Severus smirked at him. "I always knew that Abraxas had a strange sense of what a human being could drink, but this brewage of him had my hairs standing tall."

"That and the advice from some Potions Masters." Nolan answered and he couldn't help smirking back at the dark man that lifted his eyes at him questioningly. "You know the results of the tests as well as I do, Severus, and I know that there isn't time to wait for the next edition of 'Potions Monthly' as well as you do. So – I have asked my father for investigating a bit, seeing that with his position he has enough connections to Potions Masters all over the world."

"What won't change anything as they do not have my notes and formulas that would have been published in the next edition." Severus growled darkly. "As it however is, I did not even finish the article in the first place."

"And why do you think that would be a problem?" Nolan asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. "I have sent your notes and formulas to my father together with my request of course. I'm not _that_ stupid. He will be able to provide the Potions Masters he addresses with the necessary informations on this."

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Well, he had been relieved to learn that Nolan not only had asked Abraxas to contact some Potions Masters, but that he had sent him his notes and formulas on the potion as well, knowing that that would speed things up a lot. His only hope right now was – that it would suffice and that they would have answers soon, preferably before a next attack at all.

Abraxas. This man was another thing. Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius and Nolan Malfoy's father was a very strange man. He of course loved both his sons, but it had pained him very much that Lucius had followed the dark like so many other Malfoys before him while he at the same time had been very relieved that Nolan had not followed the dark path. Abraxas was a man in his mid fiftieth now, but honestly - somehow he never seemed to grow up, always acting as if he were still a fourteen or fifteen year old teenager – much to Lucius Malfoy's dismay. For a moment Snape laughed.

No, there really was no lost love on Lucius Malfoy's side when it came to his father. And yet, Abraxas, despite his childish behaviour, had managed to become one of the most respectable wizards within the Wizarding World, a man that was respected everywhere, and a man that often managed the unthinkable. In his own silly and idiotic ways sometimes. But most importantly, he was a man he liked, like his liked Nolan and Herbaceous.

Nolan had cast another diagnostic spell just a few moments ago and Severus had been waiting patiently for the healer to finish reading them while he had taken a sip of the coffee the blasted man had brought over from the canteen and now he still was analyzing the diagnostic he finally held in his hands when he noticed two pain filled dull green eyes watching his every move. He reached for one of the potions vials that rested on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed once more, took the boy's wrist into his own hand, checking the now slightly stronger pulse before he slipped one hand behind the boy's back and helped him into a more sitting position, positioning the pillows behind the small back before lowering the fragile upper body back into them.

"I want you to eat a bit and I have a couple of potions as well that I need you to take, child. No …" He said the moment the boy's eyes grew frightened, terrified even, the moment the smaller body in front of him tensed up against the headboard – and with a reason so, he thought – and he lifted his hand to stop the boy from beginning to panic. "The tests are done and over with and those potions will not hurt you. One is a core restorative draught which you will have to take twice a week for the time being and the other one is a pain relieving potion that … was developed for the cruciatus curse once. I know that you have not received the curse but some of your nerves are damaged in nearly the same way and so it should help better than a simple pain potion. I am hoping the pain relieving potion will minimize that pain as best as possible. You will have to take this one once a day for at least a week now and we will see where to go from there then."

He placed the first vial, the one with the core restorative potion at the boy's lips and he dipped it the moment the boy obediently opened them. He repeated the same with the second vial and a few moments later he could see how his son visibly relaxed, some of the lines in the child's face, that shouldn't have been there in the first place, evening out while the fingers that had been curled into tight fists relaxed on the bed.

He then took one of the small hands into his own and with a frown on his face he inspected them.

"Move your fingers." He ordered, his dark eyes not releasing the boy's hand and he noticed that while the boy's bony fingers meanwhile were able to move, the movements were slow and clumsy, and seemed to cause pain, even due to the pain relieving potion and his frown deepened.

"Take this vial." He then said, reaching out the empty vial. It would be small enough so even a child with smaller hands than Harry would have been able to hold it, but not as small as to cause trouble for the boy's still not completely healed fingers. The boy slowly took it – and dropped it after trying to get a better hold on it.

"Sorry." Came the immediate answer to the dropping of an empty vial and Snape shook his head while taking the vial from the bedcovers where it had fallen onto.

"Whatever for?" He asked. "For dropping an already empty vial onto a soft surface where it wouldn't break anyway or for having not aimed correctly to drop the vial at the floor where it would have made such a lovely sound breaking?"

Well, the boy blinking at him stupidly was amusing and he lifted his eyebrow to keep a straight face.

He looked into the startled and definitely not understanding green eyes for a moment longer, realizing that the boy actually did not understand his joke, and then he simply started to feed the boy with the light soup that had been placed on the nightstand by a house elf only moments before. Of course that boy had not understood his joke. That boy neither understood that it had not been his fault that he had dropped the vial in the first place, nor that he wasn't blamed for anything at all and he didn't understand how he could have made a joke in the first place.

Well – it would take them longer as he had expected, he feared, having to feed the boy as well as having to work on his self-esteem - and therefore working on anything related to the abuse.

"Stay awake." He ordered when he noticed the child's eyes dropping after only a few spoons of the soup and the green eyes snapped open at him. "You need to eat more than that. I know that you are tired and I also know that you will not manage a healthy meal yet, but you need to eat at least as much as possible in the first place."

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Well, it had not been easy and Harry had nearly fallen asleep a few times more, his eyes each time when he called him awake opening slower, but the bowl at least was half emptied now. Or halfway filled still, it depended on how one saw things. But right now he preferred to pretend that the bowl was half emptied, because anything else would have been unfair. The boy _had_ made an effort staying awake and eating what he was fed after all.

"Why don't you go home for a few hours to have a bit of a distance for once?" Nolan asked and he growled at the man.

"Do we have to repeat the display of who will be stronger from last night?" He asked, annoyance clearly in his voice.

"No, but Maria will be here in a few minutes." Nolan answered. "And I am sure that you won't …"

"Exactly, I don't want her near _my_ son." Severus shot a dark gaze towards the healer.

"I know that you care deeply for the boy, but …"

"I do not care more about that blasted brat than I would care about any other idiotic child that were here at this ward." He shot back. Merlin! How could Nolan think he – _he_! – would care about any child! He didn't care about children, aside from his Slytherins, maybe, a bit, and he surely didn't care about the Potter brat! Definitely not!

'_And whom do you try to fool, dear Potions Master and Head of Slytherin?'_ The annoying little voice in the back of his mind asked, causing the scowl on his face to deepen.

"Of course not, Severus." Nolan said and he even could hear the amusement in his voice.

Blasted healers! All of them! And Nolan was the worst of them!

"I never would suggest such a thing!" The blasted healer continued. "But as little as you care, you nevertheless need some time for yourself. What do you think all we healers have a home for, instead of being here for day and night? To get away from here for some time, you idiotic Potions Master. That is it what you are! And now you will leave this room and preferably this hospital at all, or I will have you removed by some of the wards, and I don't want to see you back here before tomorrow morning – and being well rested."

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More than ever, Harry's heart ached right now. His mum and dad should be here with him right now. They should be holding his hand and they should be hugging him, telling him that it would be ok and that they would be there for him.

Ron always complained that his mum embarrassed him with her displays of love, but Harry would do almost _anything_ to have that while at the same time he knew that – no, no one would ever hug him like that. So – why did he care now? He had been without parents for years, after all. All his life, as far as he could remember anyway, he had known that he was unloved, his aunt and uncle had made sure that he knew that.

So what did it matter to him now that Snape didn't care about him? What did it matter to him now that Snape might have adopted him, whatever reason for he had done so, but didn't care about him more than he would care about any other idiotic child that were here at this ward? What did it matter to him?

Snape was helping him, _Snape_, of all people, and Snape had been even kind, for his standard at least, so what else did he expect from his Potions Teacher? Snape wasn't his father, not his real father after all, and Snape had no obligations towards him in the first place. So what did it matter to him?

Snape had done more than anyone else had done, so what did it matter to him that he didn't care about him?

Yet - he couldn't help it, logical or not, he wanted someone to care about him, someone to comfort him, and he wanted this someone to be Snape. Because Snape had been there. Snape had been there at the room of requirement, and Snape had been there to get him from the Dursleys, Snape had been there to get him before his uncle had been back to …

Shuddering at the thought he gritted his teeth, refusing to think about that.

Snape simply had been there. And Snape had adopted him.

But Snape didn't care about him.

But it didn't matter, because it was just Snape – and the Darkmaster – who didn't care.

"You do not have to pretend being asleep, Mr. Snape." He heard the other man's voice – Malfoy's voice.

Of course he had learned by now that it was not Lucius Malfoy like he had thought last time he had seen the man for the first time, that his name was Nolan Malfoy, that he was Lucius Malfoy's brother but nothing like that man that was a Death Eater. And nevertheless – the looks of him, the voice of him – all of him just screamed – Malfoy!

On the other hand, he had heard how he had discussed with Snape and he seemed to be a man who cared about people in the first place, contrary to Lucius Malfoy. And he had not hurt him, even if he was here since … frowning he wondered since when exactly he was here at all.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, avoiding to come too close to the boy, knowing that he only would startle him, that this was a child that not only came from an abusive household, but that he had already met his brother, Lucius, as well. And the boy's reaction showed that he was indeed correct. Harry Snape had backed away from him on the bed, leaning against the head board, his knees drawn up towards his chest.

The boy shook his head, his face pale and the green eyes large, warily following his every movement. The hands that didn't grip his knees or shins, but were laid around his feet only, they trembled and he was sure that if they had been healed completely by now, then he would have gripped his knees, or his shins, or his wrists, in a tight grip, just to hide their trembling.

"Do you have any questions?" He asked, sitting onto the table that stood beneath the large window, lowering his head to one side in a questioning manner. But again he didn't get an answer.

"Saturday." He finally said, trying to guess what the boy might want to know while at the same time trying to get a conversation started – somehow … only if he talked to the boy, he – maybe – would start partaking in the conversation – eventually. "Severus has brought you over at Saturday evening. We have Tuesday now."

Well, that at least got a response out of the child, even if it was just a glare and he thought he knew the problem.

"You've heard Severus' words." He said, making sure that it was not a question but a statement. He got another glare for this particular statement.

"You know …" He sighed, leaning back against the wall. Severus was his friend, and of course he knew about the history between Harry Potter and Severus Snape. "I know Severus since a very long time. And during all this time I never – absolutely _never_ – have seen him as upset as he was the past few days since he has brought you here. Last night after the testing I had to give him the strongest whiskey I had to calm him down and I even had to threaten him so he got from your bedside and his eyes off you. Severus was your teacher for three years if I am correct, did you ever see his hands tremble? No? Me not either, except for the night he brought you here and except for last night after the testing."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he got off the table and walked over to the window, looking down into the grounds, remembering the sight of his friend. A sight he hadn't liked at all, while he watched the same man down there on the grounds, slowly walking along the main path, towards the main gates of St. Mungos.

"I am working here since a long time." He then sighed without turning back to the boy, continuing to look down onto the grounds. "Severus is a colleague of mine since a very long time too, even if he's working here in the holidays only. But never before have I seen his hands moving as quickly and as determinedly despite their trembling than I have seen the night he has brought you here." He finally took his eyes off the Potions Master and turned, leaned against the windowsill and looked into the boy's startled eyes. "He has been desperate to save your live in this night and he has not left St. Mungos since. And last night, after the testing, his hands have been shaking that badly, he barely had been able to hold the tumbler I have given him. And today I had to throw him out of here after he – again – had barely slept. He might have said that he didn't care, but he does care more than he himself dares to admit. This is his way to keep his face, to keep his strange sense of dignity and to keep what he thinks might be control over the situation. He never had someone who cared about him and so it is only logically that he does not know how to handle this particular emotion – to care about someone. And yet, he does. And he does care _deeply_. And he does care deeply about _you_, his son!"

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He didn't understand. He didn't understand at all. All he felt right now was – confusion.

Snape had said that he didn't care!

But that healer had said that he did care!

So – what was true? Did Snape really care but didn't want to admit it? Or did he not care and this healer wanted to defend Snape? They were friends after all. But then – he had to admit, he really never had seen the man's hands trembling, and if Malfoy had seen his hands trembling like that, that he couldn't even hold a glass without spilling the contents – whiskey he had needed no less – then it …

What was he supposed to believe now?

If Snape cared, then why had he said that he didn't care about him more than he would care about any other idiotic child that was here? If Snape cared, then why …

But he had seen the worry in the man's eyes lately, hadn't he? And he had heard the worry in the man's voice too, hadn't he?

But Snape never would care about him! Blasted Harry Bloody Potter! Snape hated him! He hated him with a passion that was bordering on obsession! He hated him as much as one person even _could_ hate another person!

But …

Snape had said that he didn't hate him!

He just didn't understand!

And …

Snape had said that he cared about him!

He just _couldn't_ understand!

With a soft cry of pure frustration he turned onto his side and curled into a small ball, not caring that he started crying, not caring that he nearly had fallen off the bed with the movement, not caring that the pain in his body increased at that unwelcome movement and not caring that he barely was able to breathe.

He didn't hear the door opening quietly, and he didn't hear the soft footfalls that quickly came close to the bed a moment later, he didn't feel the soft touch of a strong but slender hand on his shoulder and he didn't hear the soft and deep voice calling out his name gently.

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He had left St. Mungos through the main entrance instead of using the floo, needing the fresh air and the bright sunlight to get his own confused thoughts in order, and he slowly had walked through the gardens, along the pathway that led to the main gates.

How was it that he cared so deeply for that blasted brat? What was it that blasted brat always did to worm his way into his heart? How was it that he actually _felt_ the pain when he thought at that blasted brat? How was it that his hate towards that blasted brat had changed not only so quickly, but also so completely? How was such an idiotic thing even possible?

'_Well – first – you never have really hated him, hate is a strong word, it was merely dislike.'_

Growling at this blasted and annoying little inner voice he sat down onto one of the benches that stood along the path and he leaned back, stretching his feet in front of him, and he allowed the sun to shine on his face. So – no, he wasn't a vampire, he thought with a snort at the thought of his student's assumptions.

'_Second – it hasn't changed so quickly, you had the boy in the 'room of requirement' for two weeks before you got him.'_

Yes, that might be true. He _did_ have the blasted brat in this even more blasted chat room and even if he was glad that he had entered this room back then, he still didn't understand it entirely, especially not his obsession with the room later on. But well, if he hadn't been that obsessed with it – or Potter? – then most likely the boy would be dead right now, since days even.

'_Third – you have learned how wrong you have been about him and how much you have wronged him also with your actions since three years.'_

So – that meant he simply had a bad consciousness? No – he doubted that. He might feel bad about the entire situation, yes, he had to admit that, but he also knew that this wasn't the reason as to why he had adopted the boy and why he cared so much. He wasn't a person that allowed his consciousness to rule his actions. He knew that he had made a mistake and he was ready to make it better, but that didn't explain his sudden care.

Well, adopted he had him, because of his sense of duty and responsibility – _mainly_ – and maybe – just _maybe_ – a little bit out of care. He had adopted him to keep him from the Dursleys as well as from Dumbledore's manipulative hands.

But that didn't explain why in Merlin's name he cared so much!

'_You're an idiot!'_

"As it seems, yes, I am." He growled darkly and got off the bench. He however didn't go on towards the main gates but back to the smaller side building he had left just fifteen minutes ago.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The moment he opened the door to the room his son lay in, he heard soft crying and for a moment he stopped, startled, standing there blinking. He had left that room only half an hour ago, for Merlin's sake! What could have happened to upset the boy like this? To lose composure so completely? And quickly he walked over to the bed, trying to stay calm so he wouldn't startle the child with his temper that was about to flare anew. Whoever had dared to upset the boy would have to answer his wrath!

His son lay on his side, curled into a small ball, and not only was his entire body cramped in this position, the muscles tight, the skinny shoulders shaking with his sobs, but he also had his arms pulled around his head, as if to protect himself from whatever was frightening him, while his fingers were buried deeply within the mop of black hair, nearly pulling at them, and the soft sobs were just that, soft, but not less desperate because of it.

"Harry?" He quietly asked the moment he reached the bed and slowly he reached out and placed his hand on the boy's shaking shoulder. But no reaction came, not even the sobs changing or the hitching breath and his frown deepened. The boy had been asleep when he had left the room thirty minutes ago. Had he had a nightmare? But the relaxing potion he got kept any nightmares from fastening themselves. They normally would change into more pleasant dreams before they could get too worse, because the potion kept the body not only calm while being awake, but while being asleep as well. Something that helped with nightmares as with a tense body they normally worsened.

But on the other hand, with the amount of relaxing potion the child had in his system, he shouldn't even be able to tense up like this, to cramp up like this. But what then had upset the child like this?

Gritting his teeth he wrapped his fingers around the bony shoulder and tried to pull the boy onto his back, in vain, as the child's few but already taunt muscles only tightened, just as did the fingers that were buried in his damp hair, and the Potions Master's worry only grew. What in Merlin's name _had happened_?

Tightening his own jaw he sat down onto the bed before he reached out with his other hand and simply pulled the small ball that was his son into his lap, wrapping his arms around the skinny shoulders and running one hand over the bony back.

He was sure that it had not been a nightmare, not with such an amount of relaxing potion in his system, and he also was sure that Nolan had not hurt his son either. Nolan never would hurt a child, not if it wasn't necessary at least and there had been no treatment or test that had to be done that could have hurt the child. Had Maria been here?

Nolan had said she would be on her way, but he also knew that Nolan only had said so to get him out of the hospital for some time. He had forbidden Maria to enter this room and as unbearable as the woman was with the patients, she was obedient towards the healers. And here, he _was_ a healer, added to a Potions Master and a Professor. So – no, he didn't think that Maria had been really here to upset his son.

But what had happened then?

Gently he started to pry the boy's fingers from his hair, one by one, not daring to imagine the pain the child caused himself by gripping his hair like that with his hurting fingers, and then he gently pulled the child's arms down, first his right and then his left one, held them there with his own arms that still were wrapped around the fragile body.

He would like to give him another dose of relaxing potion, but at the same time he knew that this would be too much. The boy was already overflowed with the relaxing potion as it was, and so he had to work on calming the child himself and without a potion.

"Child?" He again asked when finally the taunt muscles relaxed a bit, when he had the boy's arms away from his head, and when the desperate sobs had subsided to small sobs. "What happened, child? What has upset you like this?"

"'s'not important." The boy sobbed after a while. "Y'don' care an'way."

Frowning Snape looked down at the dark haired child in his arms, his son, blinking. Had he not assured this child over and over again that he indeed _did_ care? He had told him over and over again that he cared!

_"You are here, Potter, in need of someone who cares for once in your life and I am here, ready to give this care. And before you ask, you are my student, so of course I do care."_… _"I do know that I am your cold and dark Potions Professor from your past three years and I will be just that for the next four years also. And nevertheless I have adopted you and I did so willingly. I had to do something so neither the ministry nor the headmaster could take you away and ship you back to the Dursleys." _… _"I am ready to overtake the role of a caring adult for once in your life!"_

Well, yes – he had told the child over and over again that he cared. And yet – he had to admit that he had not made it absolutely clear. If he thought about his own words, then he couldn't help noticing that they always had been accompanied by mean words and that his tone had not been the friendliest, or that they – _might_ – have sounded as if he _had _to care without really _wanting_ to care. He never had made it absolutely clear that he did _want_ this.

_"If you had paid attention to anything the Darkmaster wrote to you in those blasted private dialogues, then you would know that there is no reason to understand everything but to simply accept the fact that he cared."_… _"And if you had listened to anything I have said to you just a few minutes ago, then you would know that I indeed do care, you idiot child!" _… _"I will tell you the same as the Darkmaster has told you. I __do__ care or I would not sit here. I __do__ care or you would not be here. I do care or I would not take the time to talk to you, you idiot child."_

Well, yes – _again_ he had told the child over and over again that he cared. And yet – he had to admit that he _still_ had not made it absolutely clear. If he again thought over his own words, then he couldn't help noticing that they again either had been accompanied by nasty words, or that they again – _might_ – have sounded as if the Darkmaster only had cared, but not he, Snape, that it might not have been something serious to him.

_"But I don't … you can't … you … don't you understand? Don't you see? I …"_

_"Easy, child! Calm down! I actually do see very clearly. You have been neglected of care, comfort and affection for so long that you don't think anyone could give it to you ever, and last of all me. I __do __see, child, and now calm down."_

But no – he had not seen it – neither had he seen _all_ of it, nor had he seen the _entirety_ of it. He had not seen how deep the abuse had gone, including sexual abuse and the child's body being sold to friends of his uncle, and nothing else it had been. He had not seen how deep the pain, mistrust and self-loath went and he had not seen that the child needed more than just a few reassuring words.

No, he had not seen at all.

_"I do not care more about that blasted brat than I would care about any other idiotic child that were here at this ward."_

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

But he did see it now, and with a sigh, knowing that it was his own fault, remembering his earlier words he had spoken to Nolan and knowing that most likely the boy had been awake and had heard them, he knew that _he_, and _he_ alone would have to answer his wrath for upsetting the child, his son.

Gently he pulled the fragile body of his son a bit closer against his chest, knowing that he had to throw his own dignity aside for now. This here was not Nolan in which's presence he could act as a bastard just to keep his dignity, but a child that wouldn't understand his actions and misread them for not caring.

"Merlin, child …" He started while placing his hand atop the back of the boy's head and pressed the damp face against his shoulder.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Will __Severus will be able to gain Harry's trust? Will he be able to make Harry see that he really cares? And what will happen now, while Harry is still at St Mungos?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	22. a bit of a problem

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_But he did see it now, and with a sigh, knowing that it was his own fault, remembering his earlier words he had spoken to Nolan and knowing that most likely the boy had been awake and had heard them, he knew that he, and he alone would have to answer his wrath for upsetting the child._

_Gently he pulled the fragile body of his son a bit closer against his chest, knowing that he had to throw his own dignity aside for now. This here was not Nolan in which's presence he could act as a bastard just to keep his dignity, but a child that wouldn't understand his actions and misread them for not caring._

_"Merlin, child__…" He started while placing his hand atop the back of the boy's head and pressed the damp face against his shoulder._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-two **

**A bit of a problem**

**Wednesday**

"Merlin, child …" He started while placing his hand atop the back of the boy's head and pressed the damp face against his shoulder. "It _is_ important, _you_ are important." He then sighed unsurely, not knowing what exactly he was to say. "And I _do_ care. I know that the comment I have spoken to Nolan earlier and which you – I take it – have overheard, might say something different. But you should know me by now, Harry. I am not a man prone to admitting any emotions. I do not easily admit that I care about anyone, not even to my friends, let alone about you that is my son since a few days only. This all is new to me, child, and I have to learn as much as have you, but I _do_ care and I do care about _you_, and I do care _deeply_ about you. I – mind you – Severus Snape, not the Darkmaster."

"No!" The boy sobbed, trying to get out of his grip. "You don't. You never did! You only want to make me more miserable later, the moment I've been stupid enough to trust you, and then you only will use this against me in class like you always do! I hate you! And you have hurt me! I just hate you!"

Severus Snape let the insult slide, something he did commonly with his Slytherins. The boy was lashing out, out of embarrassment and fear, out of pain and out of not understanding that there really might be a person that finally cared, and he was not to be blamed for an emotional outburst like that. Not to mention that it not only was his own fault after all as he _had_ said to Nolan that he didn't care, but the boy was right too. He _had_ hurt him, and he had hurt him badly.

"I know that I have." Severus said. "But it simply had been necessary. I needed those test results so I knew about the damage on your magical core and so I could decide which potions you will need. I did not like hurting you, child, it was anything than a pleasant experience for me either, but I simply had to do those tests."

"I don't believe you!" His son sobbed, still trying to squirm away from him, even hitting his fists against his chest. "My core is just fine! I don't believe you! You don't care! And you only did to hurt me!"

"I can understand that you do not believe me, child, but I _do_ care." The Potions Master sighed and simply ignored the teen's fists hitting his chest. They were too weak to hurt him anyway. "I would not have come back after Nolan threw me out and threatened me to have me removed by the wardens if I would not care, Harry. And I am sure that you have heard his comment just as well as you have heard my comment. For those tests …" He took a deep breath before continuing as he had not been planning on telling the boy so soon during his illness. "I have not informed you about the results yet, but your magical core is breaking. It already has some cracks and I needed to know how much cracks there are and how deep they are in order to find a treatment."

The smaller fists of the teen suddenly stopped and Harry stilled completely, stopped his squirming before lifting his face and looking up at him uncertainly.

"Oh." The boy finally managed to say. "Well. you … you should have told me."

"Of course." Snape sighed. "And have you worrying about something that wasn't even certain before we had the test results? Now we know them and we already have you on some potions that might help." _At least as long as possible_, he thought, but he didn't say this aloud. The boy was just this, a boy, a child, and he was not well enough to handle the knowledge that he would die never mind what. He would have to tell him if he wanted the child to ever trust him, and he would have to tell him soon, but not now.

Harry nodded but didn't say anything and the room was quiet for a moment as Harry thought about what he had said.

"Can I really trust you?" He then asked. "I don't know how! I trusted the Darkmaster. But you? How can I trust you? Won't you really use this against me? Won't you really make fun of me? Won't you really leave the moment I'm stupid enough to trust you?"

Snape fought the urge to scowl at the boy. "How many times do I have to tell you. I will not tell anyone unless there is a reason. One, that you are lying to me. Two, that you are in danger. And never would I make fun of the misery of any of my students, and above all not of my son. It is that simply. I am trying to help you."

"But I don't know how!" The boy shouted in frustration. "I just don't know _how_! You've been a git towards me from day one and you've never given me a chance! You've always hated me! And now you're saying that my body is breaking apart!"

"Calm down, Harry." He gently said, pulling the boy back into his arms. "Just try to relax. And your body is not breaking apart."

"It does!" The boy claimed, frantically. "You said so! And it hurts!"

"Calm down, child." He said calmly, again refusing to let the boy go right now. "Your body is not breaking apart. Take a deep breath and hold it for a second. If your body really would break apart, you would be screaming with pain right now. Release your breath now and wait a second before you take another one. Your body is not breaking apart, you are just panicking. Now take another deep breath, slowly. That's right child. It is your magical core that is breaking, not your body. Now release it slowly. Very good. And we will work on that, Harry, I promise, that is the reason I brought you here after all. Continue breathing like this. How do you feel now?"

"Stupid." The boy in his arms growled and he sighed. "And I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"There is no need to feel – _stupid_." He growled back. "And as for your insolence …"

"My body was breaking apart …" The boy said, looking up at him in clear distress. "I mean, surely whatever someone says when their body breaks apart shouldn't count?"

"Your body did not break apart." The Potions Master shook his head. "And neither will it."

"But it felt like it did." The boy murmured, looking aside. "It hurt."

"It was your emotions that tricked you." Snape sighed. "You simply panicked. Just do not let it happen again."

"The disrespect or my body breaking apart?" The boy asked, looking up at him sheepishly and he sighed, scowling at the child.

"Both, I would prefer." He growled darkly.

"I can't promise the second one." The child he still held in his arms whispered, averting his eyes.

"I know." The Potions Master ran his hand through the boy's hair. "But we will work on that. Are we at least clear on the caring part now, child?" He then asked.

"I guess." The boy answered, still in a whisper. "It's just hard to believe that you really want to help me. _You_ of all people!"

"I have to agree with you on that and I do understand." He admitted. Harry and he had not had the best relationship. Years of mutually dislike did not result in a very trusting relationship of _any_ sort after all and if he thought about this from the boy's point of view, then he knew that he had to go on slowly, slower than he maybe liked, slower maybe than the situation demanded. But he also knew that he had to _earn_ this child's trust and until then he only could try to help and hope that they could move forwards one day.

"I suggest that we take a different approach." He then said. "We will take it slow. Each evening you are here, and yes, you will have to stay here for a bit longer, we will talk about one of your fears concerning our relationship – until we are done with that. Then we may talk about your current problems concerning the abuse and the subsequent breaking of your core, or anything else you wish to talk about. Is that agreeable?"

The weak nod against his chest showed clearly that the boy was tired and he reached out for the glass of fresh water that stood on the nightstand.

"Drink this and see if you can go back to sleep." He quietly ordered, pressing the glass into the boy's trembling hands.

"More sleep?" The boy asked after taking a sip of the cold water. "I've done nothing but sleeping since I'm here."

"Your core just was about to break apart completely a few days ago, Harry." He sternly said. "This is not a simple broken arm that will be mended with a potion Madam Pomfrey gives you. This is a bit more serious and I want you to take it easy until I am sure you have at least fully recovered from your last attack. So, lie back against the pillows and try to sleep."

When Harry glared at him, Snape raised an eyebrow.

"But I'm tired of staying in bed." He murmured while he slumped his shoulders. He just didn't understand. Shouldn't he be on the mend already?

His confusion however grew as Snape placed his hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back until he rested against the pillows before feeling his forehead with his palm and Harry felt an odd feeling in his stomach. Was this what it felt like to have a parent fuss over you when you were sick? Maybe he _could_ allow Snape to really be his father? But no, he was creepy and evil and mean and dark and could, not good parent material at all.

"You are not so cold anymore." Snape quietly announced, his tone implying that Harry had finally done something right. "Try to relax for a bit, do not think about anything and just go to sleep. I will be here."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Harry lay in the dark, curled on his side and trying to fall asleep, but he was really too wound up about what had just taken place. After all – who would have ever known that Snape could actually be nicer than the Dursleys? It just didn't make any sense! Nothing of it made any sense! It was so damn confusing! He had even screamed at Snape and the man had let it slip!

Of course, it was a bit relieving to have someone else caring about him for once and of course it was comforting to have someone else looking out for his well-being too, but he simply was not used to this and Harry began mentally checking off the people who had ever really cared for him.

There were Ron and Hermione of course, and the rest of the Weasleys, and there had been Sirius and Remus, but those two were gone now. Sirius was dead and Remus surely wouldn't like having him around anymore. Remus surely would hate him now for getting Sirius killed, the man that had been his last friend from his marauder times. But otherwise there had been no one. The Dursleys surely hadn't cared about him. And neither had Dumbledore, he knew this.

A wave of helplessness, of despair and of misery washed over him with full force and Harry found himself starting to cry.

_What a baby!_ His mind screamed at him, insulting him, wanting him to stop crying, but his emotions just didn't care about his mind right now and he pressed his burning eyes shut and gritted his teeth, curled his hands into fists painfully while the tears were rolling down his face. He never before had felt so miserable and so distraught in his entire life.

_Get a grip on yourself!_ The rational part of his mind screamed at him, pleaded with him, but again his emotional part simply didn't care. It didn't care just like no one cared about him. He was all alone like he always had been. No one ever would love him, just like they never _had_. Who would even _want_ to love him? Uncle Vernon had said so, and aunt Petunia too. No one would ever want to love him, no one would ever want to have him. And now he was causing even more trouble to Professor Snape – of all people! Snape soon would see what a damn freak he was. He surely knew already. He surely always had known!

Surely that was the reason he always had hated him! Because he always had known what a damn freak he …

"I thought I told you _not_ to think and to go to sleep!" A soft voice came from behind him and Harry felt a hand gripping his shoulder, turning him, and then a wet cloth swiped over his face, wiping his tears away with a gentleness he hadn't thought the Potions Master being capable of.

"Blow!" Snape instructed, holding a handkerchief at Harry's nose and Harry did, simply obeyed without thinking, too worked up for being able to think much.

"What's … what's hap … happening to me?" Harry sobbed, completely and utterly confused and miserable.

"Just what I have expected." The Potions Master calmly said, still dabbing tears away from his face in a professional manner as if he were used to drying a teenager's tears on a regular basis. "The past weeks have been anything than pleasant. You have been abused in a most cruel way by your own family what caused your core to break. I have caused you pain with those tests and then I have made you angry and distressed with an inconsiderate comment. And after our conversation earlier your anger has broken, leaving you thus feeling helpless and upset. I was hoping that you might fall asleep before you had an absolute breakdown, but that did not work as it seemed." He sighed in resignation.

This new information did nothing to cheer Harry up however. If anything, it made him just feeling more miserable than ever as he felt as if he was just a lost little boy in a big scary world where he was hurt easily, and where he couldn't even protect himself.

"Hush now, child." Snape pushed back a few strands of the boy's black hair from his son's face. "Why don't you try thinking of something a bit – more happy?" He asked, trying to find the right words.

"Like … like what?" How could he ever think of anything happy with the knowledge that the only persons that cared about him he could count on one hand and that his core was about to break and that this wasn't like a broken arm as Snape had said?

"What kind of sweets do you like?" The Potions Master asked. As it seemed – they were back to their game of questions and answers.

Harry considered this, but then he shook his head. He wanted to keep crying, he wanted to turn around and hid his face in the man's robes and continue crying, but he could not think and cry at the same time.

"Never _… _never had much." He finally sobbed. "Don' like … don' like Bertie Bott's Beans. Y' never know what y' get. Like muggle chocolate though. At least y' know what it'll taste like."

"Interesting perception." Snape said, ignoring the slurred speech coming from the still distressed child. "What else do you like?"

"Dunno." The boy said, shrugging one shoulder.

"I assume you also like those chocolate frogs that leap around and are nothing else than general nuisances?"

"Never … never caught them."

"You are Gryffindor's seeker, Mr. Snape." He lifted his eyebrow at the still sobbing teenager. "Surely you won't tell me that you are too slow to catch those infuriating frogs."

"Don' wanna hurt 'em." The boy answered miserably and again the Potions Master sighed.

He actually had adopted a teenager, an emotional unstable teenager no less. He had adopted a bloody Gryffindor and Gryffindor's seeker no less. Gryffindor's seeker that wasn't able to catch a chocolate frog because he had pity with those blasted things. And still he didn't know how he could comfort his distraught, upset and beaten child whose core was about to break apart completely sooner than he had hoped, likely even this very summer – thus causing his death.

Snape let out his breath in a huff – he really should have let the boy to cry himself to sleep!

"You don' have to stay with me all the time, y' know." The boy said in a near whisper and he had to listen close to make out his words. "I understand if y' wanna leave. It's pretty depressing 'round here an' I know I'm a pain in the ass."

Snape grabbed Harry's chin firmly and turned his face so they were eye to eye. The boy still looked so distressed and upset and the older wizard loosened his grip a little.

"I already told you, I am here of my own wish. Get that in that stubborn head of yours, child."

"I jus' don' understand." Harry whispered and tried to pull away but Severus tightened his grip again and sternly pierced the boy's miserable green eyes with his own dark ones. Merlin! He needed that child to finally understand!

"You are not at fault for anything of this, Harry. You are a fourteen year old boy and you have been living under circumstances that a full grown man would not be able to handle. So of course you do not understand! But that is what I am here for, child. I am here to help you and I am here to care for you. We need to get you away from all this and let you heal, both mentally and physically. Do you understand? I am not a man who makes decisions without really thinking them through or wanting them. I have adopted you because I _wanted_ to. And believe me, I had enough time to think this through, not only while you have been at Prince Manor, but while I have been visiting this blasted chat room of yours just as well. I _do_ – care – about – you and you need to learn what it means having an adult that finally takes care about you. Only then you can heal properly."

Again he watched the child's pale face, the scared posture and again he realized – gone was the always confident Gryffindor and in his place was a child so deeply damaged by events not of his own making that he mentally wasn't with them all the time even. And again the Potions Master thought of Prince Manor and the soft landscape surrounding it and again he knew that it would be a quiet place for the boy to recover.

"Are we clear on that now, child?" He asked. "I _do_ care about you and I _do_ want to help you – you only have to let me."

The child tried to nod and Snape let go of Harry's chin, seeing the red marks his fingers had caused on the pale face and he let out a long suffering breath by himself. He really had to get himself under more control. Too many years of harsh contact with others – with Death Eaters especially – had made him a harsh person and he would have to be more careful when touching the boy in future. The child was just that – a child.

"Ninny." He quietly called and a moment later a small house elf appeared in the room, bowing deeply to the Potions Master. "Please bring me one of the books from the recreation room. If possible one that suits a fourteen year old boy." He ordered the small creature that immediately vanished and a moment later came back with a thick tome.

"Thank you." He said, taking the book and opening the first page, starting to read.

"The legend of the lost dragons, chapter one, the beginning of the end. Of course there always had been some who knew that this day would come sooner or later, but most people never would have thought it possible. And yet – it had happened. It had happened and now the muggles simply weren't able to handle the situation. But none of them had listened. They had done their researches on dangerous material that had been known to the wizarding world since long and they had tried to warn them. But they had not listened and now the day had come at which they all would have to pay."

Harry laid his head back against the pillows and closed his tired eyes. He really did feel safe right now, and he didn't care if it was due to Snape. He would try his very hardest to _not_ do anything that would ruin this. Something had happened to Snape, he was sure about that. Snape was almost human. Snape indeed _was_ very human actually. And he really seemed to care if he even read to him now just so that he could fall asleep.

But why hadn't he always been like this?

Why hadn't he been there earlier?

Why hadn't he …

Harry lost his train of thought as he listened to the deep silky voice of his new father.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The child had curled on his side again, this time facing him and he twitched in his sleep, mumbled something incoherent and Snape felt the boy's forehead and cheeks again. They were cold, as were his hands, and he cast a warming charm onto the mattress and the blanket – again. There was still no sign of the boy being able to keep up his own body heat. And there were still too many visible bruises that covered the child's otherwise too pale skin, not to mention that there still were too many cuts just as well. But at least they weren't infected anymore but slowly – very slowly – healing.

Well, that was one blessing in a torrent of misfortunes. Really, Potter never did anything halfway, did he?

Snape should have buried himself in a book in his library, and let the evening drag on as the child would probably sleep until the morning, now that he was exhausted beyond his limits. And yet he just kept sitting on the armchair beside the boy's bed, watching the child that had found himself in his care so unexpectedly.

And yet – he just didn't care. He worried.

This emotional outburst had been necessary, and he knew it.

Of course the child barely had woken long enough during the past few days to eat, swallow potions and have short conversation before he fell back to sleep. But the times he actually _was_ awake – there simply were too many times the child was laying there, empty eyes just gazing into space, or laying there with his eyes closed and he hated the unresponsive state the boy then reverted to whenever the child allowed himself to hide somewhere in his mind. He knew that this state could be indicative of an oncoming break with reality if not stopped and the last thing they both needed was a full on breakdown of Harry's mental state on top of his already breaking core.

Where was the stubborn Gryffindor that refused to yield to any challenges that were presented to him? The one that took on a full grown mountain troll as a first year or fought against a basilisk in hope of saving a girl from the Dark Lord as a second year? Where was the boy that had faced a werewolf, an escaped convict and a murderer in his third year? Had Harry finally reached his limits? Had he used up everything he had fighting for others so there was nothing left to fight for himself?

_**justharry**__: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

Had the child always been like this and there just had been no one who knew?

Stupid question – of course the child had always been like this. Not as bad as he was now, but he had been like this. Anything else they had seen had been nothing than a mask the child had worn in front of them. He should have known. He should have recognized what was behind the mask. And Minerva should have sent her first years to the hospital wing just as well as he did with his first years the moment they entered Hogwarts. Poppy should have seen it during one of her examinations of the child. She did have the boy in her infirmary after Quidditch accidents each year after all. Wizarding Child Services should have sent someone to check on the boy, seeing that the Dursleys had gotten a monthly salary for taking the child. They should have checked on the family regularly and then they would have found out some things.

But none of them had noticed. None of them had seen. None of them had cared enough. They all had failed the child. All the adults around the boy had failed him miserably. The only one who had known had been Dumbledore, the headmaster had not failed the boy, no – he had betrayed him.

"Didn't I tell you to leave this room and preferably the hospital at all?" Nolan's voice came from the doorway and he slightly turned in his chair to look at the healer, lifting his eyebrow at the two wardens that flanked him. So – Nolan was about to go through with his threat. He should have known. Nolan never made empty threats.

"You did." He said, turning back to the child laying in the bed, his son. "And yet I am glad that I have come back."

"What happened?" Nolan asked, taking in the wet cloth that lay on the nightstand, the book that still was in the Potions Master's hands, one of his fingers between the pages and the half emptied glass of water on the side table that hadn't been there earlier.

"He has overheard my comment towards you, as it seems, and after all that had happened to him throughout the past weeks, not to mention the past years, he had an absolute breakdown."

"You have been able to calm him?" Nolan asked and he inclined his head.

"I have." He simply answered.

"Will you leave now, Severus?"

"I will." He said. "I just have waited for you to come. I guess he will sleep through the night, but if not – I expect you to floo or to send a patronus. He did not have dinner though and I had to cast a warming charm on his blanket again. He fell asleep at page two, by the way."

With those words he got off the chair, adjusted the blanket that covered his son and then placed the book at the side table beside the glass. He tiredly went to the floo and threw some of the greyish powder into the flames that turned green before calling out "Prince Manor" and stepping into the flames, vanishing from sighed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

_**Mione**__: do you know anything from Harry and Professor Snape, slythadrian?_

_**slythadrian**__: don't call him that in here, Mione_

_**Mione**__: sorry, it's just hard NOT calling him that. He IS a professor after all_

_**slythadrian**__: that might be, but IF he comes back at one point or another, he won't be too pleased about everyone knowing that he's Professor Snape_

_Mione__ sighs_

_**Mione**__: I know, I'll do my best. However, DO you know anything about them?_

_**slythadrian**__: not really, no_

_**Mione**__: do you think Harry is still with him?_

_**slythadrian**__: dunno. _

_**slythadrian**__: I could ask Draco, he's the Darkmaster's godson after all._

_**Mione**__: don't you think that this sentence might give away too much information about the Darkmaster as well?_

_**slythadrian**__: no one is here. *shrugsshoulder*_

_**Mione**__: you think Malfoy might know something?_

_**slythadrian**__: dunno, but it could be._

_**Mione**__: *sighs* alright, just ask him, but be careful about it, I'm sure that Harry won't like Malfoy knowing anything about his home life._

_**slythadrian**__: I'm not dense_

_**slythadrian**__: and I'm a Slytherin, am I not?_

_**Mione**__: I guess I see your point_

_[Darkmaster enters the room of requirement at 0__7:14 pm]_

_[Darkmaster gets op-rights from the founders]_

_**founders**__: hello Darkmaster, nice to see you this evening … want a cup of tea? … __|_|) …_

_**Mione**__: Darkmaster!_

_**slythadrian**__: finally! Do you know how hard it is keeping Mione from hexing the entire room, Darkmaster?_

_Darkmaster lifts his eyebrow_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening to you too, Mione and slythadrian_

_**Mione**__: how's Harry?_

_**Mione**__: is he still with you?_

_**Mione**__: is he alright?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Yes, Mr. Potter is still with me and no, he is not particularly alright._

_**Mione**__: what happened?_

_**Mione**__: how's he?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Surely you do understand that I won't answer your questions here in a chat room, and surely you do understand that I won't do so without Mr. Potter's explicit permission, Mione._

_**slythadrian**__: are his relatives charged?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Sadly – not yet, slythadrian. _

_**Mione**__: but why not?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Because right now we have more important things to do than bringing up charges against Mr. Potter's relatives._

_**slythadrian**__: then the situation is quite serious. _

_**slythadrian**__: he's at St. Mungos?_

_**Darkmaster**__: why would you think that, slythadrian?_

_**slythadrian**__: dunno, just a feeling, sir._

_**Darkmaster**__: I would prefer if you kept the 'sir' to yourself in here, slythadrian._

_**slythadrian**__: oh, yes _… _of course _… _sorry …_

_**Darkmaster**__: however, Mr. Potter's momentarily residence is not up for discussion. Not right now and surely not in here._

_**Mione**__: but he'll be alright, won't he?_

_**Darkmaster**__: He will. However, I do ask you to respect his privacy the moment he is back to this room._

_**Mione**__: so he'll be back soon!_

_**Darkmaster**__: I can't promise you that._

_**slythadrian**__: *frowns*_

_**slythadrian**__: but he will be back?_

_**Darkmaster**__: Of course he will be back, idio.t child!_

_[__ravenboot enters the room of requirement at 7:21 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello ravenboot, nice to see you this evening_

_slythadrian growls_

_**Darkmaster**__: good evening ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: hi all_

_**ravenboot**__: I see you're back Darkmaster_

_**Darkmaster**__: Apparently, ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: oh, that's fine with me_

_**ravenboot**__: as long as potter isn't back_

_**Darkmaster**__: And that would be – why, ravenboot?_

_**slythadrian**__ throws a dirty glance at ravenboot_

_**Mione**__: just shut it for once, ravenboot!_

_**ravenboot**__: the git just would throw me out again! _

_**ravenboot**__: and you have no say over me, Granger!_

_**ravenboot**__: and why you're on Potter's side is a riddle to me, you're a Slytherin after all, slythadrian!_

_**Darkmaster**: Potter didn't throw you out, ravenboot – that – was ME!_

_[__pansy enters the room of requirement at 7:25 pm]_

_**founders**__: hello pansy, nice to see you this evening_

_**Darkmaster**__: Good evening pansy_

_**ravenboot**__: knew it was a mistake Potter made, giving you op rights, Darkmaster!_

_**slythadrian**__: hi pansy, you ok?_

_Darkmaster smirks at ravenboot_.

_**Mione**__: hi pansy *smile* nice to see you again_

_**pansy**__: hi Darkmaster, slythadrian and Mione_

_**ravenboot**__: so, you're still ignoring me, pansy, dear?_

_**slythadrian**__: she has you on her ignore list, you idio.t ravenboot_

_**ravenboot**__: course! She's Slytherin and you're all on Potty's side. Hope he won't be back till September_

_**Darkmaster**__: I would be very quiet now if I were you, ravenboot or you'll be kicked out of the room again without another warning._

_**ravenboot**__: without Potter making you an OP you'd be not so brave, Darkmaster_

_[user ravenboot is kicked from the room by Darkmaster at 0__7:27]_

_**slythadrian**__: oh, I guess that was his shortest visit lately _… _two minutes _… _thanks Darkmaster, Mione is too patient with him_

_**Darkmaster**__: I am not here for entertainment though. I just wanted to inform you that everything is as well as it can be at the present time._

He had left the room of requirement after a few more minutes of chatting with Granger and Adrian, giving them reassuring hints without giving away too much information and then he had frowned at the thought of Boot. Looking through his options he soon had found a way to keep that blasted imbecile out of the room with banning him and quite pleased with himself he had gone to bed, not knowing why he cared about the room in the first place. Surely Granger would have been able to throw him out of that room over and over again.

Well, maybe he just didn't want failing his son again. Harry had given him those op rights freely after all and as childish and as stupid as this all seemed to him, that boy had trusted him enough to give him those blasted rights in the first place. And so he took them seriously even if they were anything than a childish game.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Dumbledore finding out about Severus having adopted Harry_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	23. new troubles on the way

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_He had left the room of requirement after a few more minutes of chatting with Granger and Adrian, giving them reassuring hints without giving away too much information and then he had frowned at the thought of Boot. Looking through his options he soon had found a way to keep that blasted imbecile out of the room with banning him and quite pleased with himself he had gone to bed, not knowing why he cared about the room in the first place. Surely Granger would have been able to throw him out of that room over and over again._

_Well, maybe he just didn't want failing his son again. Harry had given him those op rights freely after all and as childish and as stupid as this all seemed to him, that boy had trusted him enough to give him those blasted rights in the first place. And so he took them seriously even if they were anything than a childish game._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-three **

**New troubles on the way**

**Wednesday**

"If you just get Harry's room a bit more comfortable, Zilly." Snape said, finishing his coffee and placing the cup into the sink. "There never has been a child living in there after all."

"What colours should Zilly use, Master Snape?" The small house elf asked, blinking calmly at the Potions Professor who shook his head.

"You may leave it in its present colours." He answered. "I am sure the boy will be able to decorate the room as he pleases by himself. Just get it a bit more comfortable, that will be enough."

"When will the young Master be back, Master Snape?"

"I cannot be sure, Zilly." Snape said, furrowing his brows angrily. "But I guess at some point near the beginning of next week."

Sensing his Master's anger but knowing that it wasn't directed against him, Zilly nodded and promised to get the room perfectly fitting for a teenage boy within the day.

"Good, thank you, Zilly." Snape finally said, giving away a sigh to calm himself and to get his anger back under control. He still didn't know why in Merlin's name he felt such anger whenever he thought of the boy and the abuse he had been through at the hands of those blasted excuses for relatives the boy had, but he felt as if he would simply, explode if he wouldn't get the chance to punish those blasted excuses for human beings anytime soon.

And he still didn't know why in Merlin's name he had been ready to take the boy into his home, to adopt him even, it was Harry Bloody Potter after all, the son of James Bloody Potter, but he simply felt that it had been right, that it had been what he wanted, that it had been what _should_ be.

Whatever reason for, and he huffed for a moment.

"I have to leave now, Zilly." He said. "It has been the first night the brat had been at St. Mungos without my presence there and I am not sure in what condition I will find him. I will be back tonight as soon as the boy is asleep."

The small creature that was his house elf since many years now, since his own childhood actually, murmured something he couldn't catch before nodding at him with an "of course, Master Snape, sir" and he shook his head. Probably Zilly had commented his disbelieve over his statement that he would be back as soon as Harry fell asleep.

Well, he had been sitting with the child at St. Mungos since he had brought the boy there and he only had left when the boy had fallen asleep – for a few minutes – and even that not always. The first night he had stayed at the boy's bedside, watching him carefully and thoughtfully, considering where in Merlin's name they had failed the boy. And that they all had failed him, that much was for sure.

No matter whose son, Potter, Harry, was, no matter what titles the boy carried over his head, and no matter their history – no child deserved to be treated like this. No child deserved to be starved and beaten, to be raped, to be used as a slave and screamed at for two month each year. So yes – they _had_ failed the boy.

And the fact that Harry was not released yet from St. Mungos, after five days, that he still didn't have a date even as to _when_ he would be released, told him enough about the state the boy still was in.

Well, and after that first night he again had been sitting with the boy into the late night hours, even long after the child had fallen asleep, watching him, considering the future and it had been during one of those hours that he had made his mind up. He would try to help Potter through all of this, not only trying to keep him alive, but really helping him through all of this, he would see that the child would have a happy youth. The boy hadn't had a happy childhood, he at least could give him a happy youth. He would not only _act_ the parent to keep the boy safe, he would _be_ the parent the boy needed.

Whatever reason for he did this. It wasn't that he was an overly caring man in the first place, but he felt that it was what he needed doing. And besides, Harry simply would need a place to stay until school started again, a place that was not Privet Drive, that at least it was what he told himself.

So yes, Zilly was right. Maybe he wouldn't be back as soon as his son fell asleep tonight.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Minerva hurried along the corridors of St. Mungos. She was about to pick up her sister who was in hospital due to an accident with a potion that had boiled over and hit her yesterday afternoon. It wasn't anything serious, but the healers had wanted her supervised overnight and she would be released this morning. So right now she was about to pick her up and take her home.

The two women, both still unmarried, lived together since years now and Minerva always was happy to see Muriel during her holidays. Their parents probably would be very upset if they knew that both of them never had intended to marry and have a family, but both of them were happy the way it was. Even if Minerva McGonagall had been close, very close, to go into a bond – but that had been years ago.

Who would need a husband that only would be annoying and irritating after all?

It wasn't that she disliked men in general. She got along with most of the male teachers at Hogwarts and she definitely called Albus and Severus her friends, close friends even. No – she just never had felt the need to marry one. Not that she would prefer women. That it wasn't either. She just didn't want to marry – or have any other close relationship that would require of her living together with anyone aside from her sister and as Muriel felt the same way, it was alright.

She once had been ready for that, but well, it was the past and one better did not linger at the past.

Maybe it was because of their parents always arguing while they had been alive.

But on the other hand, a few days after their father had died their mother had followed him and both women were sure that she had died because she had missed the arguing with their father, as ridiculous as it …

"Good morning, Minerva." Severus' voice startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked for a moment, wondering what the Potions Master would do here in this area of the hospital.

Of course Severus worked for St. Mungos during the holidays, brewing potions for them, she knew that, but the hospital's laboratories were in the dungeons, where they belonged to. So – what did Severus do here in the upper levels?

"Good morning, Severus." She answered. "I am pleased to see you outside of a dungeon, young man, even if I have to admit that it is a startling sight."

"Surely, the great hall at Hogwarts is in the dungeons, Professor McGonagall." Snape huffed at her, causing the transfiguration teacher to laugh.

"I would give my leave if they were." The woman said, shaking her head. "I'm not a dungeon person."

"Indeed." Snape lifted his eyebrow at the woman, growing serious. "You aren't ill, Minerva, are you?" He asked concerned.

Yes, he still wasn't a caring person in the first place, but as he liked Minerva, he couldn't help worrying after seeing her at the hospital.

"No, no, Severus, don't fret." She shook her head. "Just a social call. Muriel had a potions accident – no, don't say anything, Severus, I do know that it was her own fault, leaving a potion unsupervised – and they kept her overnight. I am just about to pick her up and take her home." Then she looked the Potions Master over. "The same question however I could ask of you."

"A social call as well, Minerva." Snape answered, smirking at the woman. Maybe he could get help without any fuss from Albus. "One of your students, to be precise." He therefore answered.

"One of my students?" Minerva asked, the shock clearly written over her face. "You _actually_ are visiting one of _my_ _Gryffindors_, Severus? Hell must be freezing over."

"Indeed." Snape agreed with a face as if he had a headache. "Considering that it is Potter no less." He added intentionally using Harry's – former – surname.

Well, this time the deputy headmistress actually gasped in shock and she blinked a few times at him before she actually was able to gather her composure, causing Snape to chuckle in amusement.

"What happened, Severus?" She then asked, worry clearly audible in her voice.

"Well, it seems that I have lost my mind at one point or another during the holidays." He answered, knowing well that this hadn't been the answer the woman had wanted to hear from him.

"As curious as I might be over the fact that you actually are visiting Mr. Potter, Severus, that wasn't what I meant." She huffed. "I rather wanted to know how Mr. Potter happens to be here at St. Mungos in the first place. What happened, Severus?"

The Potions Master lowered his head to his left and regarded the transfiguration teacher with a thoughtful look before he extended his hand towards a nearby office.

"It might be wise to _not_ discuss this here in the corridor." He said, opening the office door and leading her inside. It wasn't the first time he took claim of one of the offices and so he didn't mind doing so now. It was empty and so he entered.

"Severus?" Minerva asked, sensing that it had to be something serious, otherwise the Potions Master would have informed her without seeking shelter in privacy.

"Well, Minerva." He started after offering the woman a seat at one of the chairs and sitting himself onto the desk. "As it is, the boy has been abused by his relatives. Over years and in a most serious way, I might add."

"You're not serious!" Minerva gasped, but Severus inclined his head towards her.

"Regrettably, I am." He said. "I discovered it over the past three weeks and believe me, if Albus had not _explicitly_ forbidden it, then I would have gotten him out of there earlier, before things got out of hands. As it so happens however, he did and my hands had been bound until I felt that I could not take the responsibility leaving the child there any longer and acted against the headmaster's wishes."

"How is Potter now, Severus?" She asked, her voice nearly a hollow whisper and her face paler as it had been moments ago.

He watched her for a few more moments with serious black eyes before he finally answered.

"Well." He then started. "Considering that he had been close to death and considering that I nearly lost him a few times until I decided that I needed professional help in keeping the boy alive and transported him here, he is – remarkably … well. But he will have to deal with the physical scars for a few months longer, not to mention with the mental scars that might run even deeper than the physical ones. I actually wonder how your lion managed to hide the amount of abuse from us for three years now."

Minerva didn't answer him, but he hadn't expected an answer anyway. The woman looked grave and rather ill at that news.

"Any long lasting damage?" She finally was able to ask a few minutes later and Severus sighed.

"Just let me say, I will have to invent a new potion as soon as possible." He answered.

"What kind of potion, if I might ask?" Minerva asked and Snape again cast a long glance at her before answering. He didn't want to startle the older witch, but he didn't want to lie to her either. And he didn't want to give his responsibility over the boy away to the woman, but the woman was Harry's head of house after all and should know. Not to mention that she was the deputy headmistress and _could_ help him against the headmaster after all.

He huffed for a moment. He didn't even know why in Merlin's name he felt this kind of jealousy at the thought that Minerva might take matters in her hands in the first place. It was – after all – still Potter they discussed. A student he had disliked the most and for years. And he wasn't fond of students in general to begin with. So, why did he feel so strange towards the boy now? Why did he worry over the brat so much now? Why did he barely leave the hospital since days, since he had brought the boy here? Why did he sit with him for nearly twenty-four hours a day trying to talk to the boy, to comfort him? Why did he consider the boy's future so much?

Why _did_ he see him as his son, for Merlin's sake?

Was it because of the adoption? Was it because he had made such a grave mistake in judging the boy for years? Was it because … whatever reason for – he simply _did_ feel this way and he didn't even mind. And it wasn't Potter anymore after all, Harry was a Snape now, after all. He had given the boy his name.

"One that might keep Harry's magical core from breaking apart completely." He finally said, sighing, while daring Minerva with a threatening gaze of his black eyes. There wasn't reason to worry, honestly. He simply wouldn't allow Minerva to take the boy from him and that was it.

"You mean …" The deputy headmistress began, not even recognizing the threatening look he gave her nor the fact that he had called Harry by his given name. "But only one of hundred abused children would suffer from …"

"As it is, Minerva, Harry seems to be one of those hundred." Snape growled darkly. "I already have discovered several cracks in his core when Healer Malfoy and I did the tests and cast the appropriate diagnostic spells."

"How long?" Minerva whispered, barely able to keep her tears at bay.

"It is impossible to name a precise time specification." He growled darkly. "It might be a few years at the best, maybe, but it might be a few weeks at the worst and right now it looks very much like the second case. It depends on how the boy is handled during the next few days and weeks, and it depends on how we handle the situation in future. We might be able to delay his core breaking apart completely for some time if we act reasonable and careful. But for that, I do need your help, Minerva."

"Of course, Severus." The transfiguration teacher said, still fighting with her emotions. "What do you need?"

"Most importantly, Minerva, I do need your trust." Snape finally said. "If we allow Albus to handle the boy now, then he will only fear for his weapon, I fear."

"Going against the headmaster?" Minerva gasped. "Albus does care for the boy, Severus."

"Yes, he does." The Potions Master agreed. "But not in a way he ought to. He does care for his weapon in a war that is not to be fought by children and he is not reasonable when it comes to that boy's caretaking and safety. In the contrary, Minerva. I have learned a few things from Harry himself that are rather startling information. Not to mention a few conversations I had during the past few weeks with the headmaster concerning the boy myself."

"I do know that Albus isn't much reasonable from time to time, Severus, but surely he wouldn't harm Potter."

"He has risked Harry's live already twice, Minerva, out of his not only stupid but selfish reasons when it comes to that particular child, and I cannot help fearing that it might happen again." He seethed angrily, again startling the transfiguration teacher.

"So what is it you ask of me, Severus?"

"I ask for – your support in my guardianship over Harry."

"You … what … but …"

"How eloquent, Minerva."

"Merlin! Severus!"

"Severus will be enough, Minerva, but thank you."

"Severus Snape!" The deputy headmistress called out exasperated. "Will you stop this nonsense at once? This is not funny, young man!"

"No, it isn't, Minerva." Snape agreed, growing serious again. "But your reaction has been just too – amusing."

Minerva huffed at him.

"However, I am quite serious Minerva." The Potions Master then said. "I do need your support in my guardianship over Harry."

"But why, Severus?" The woman asked, still shocked. "And since when do you call Potter Harry, by the way? You hate that boy!"

"First, I do not hate Harry, Minerva." Severus sighed. "Second, I have learned a lot about the boy during the past three weeks to know that I have been very wrong about him and believe me I am not one who easily admits being wrong. And third, he is not a Potter anymore. I actually have already adopted Harry a week ago and I have given him my surname. So he actually is Harry Snape by now."

"You … Merlin!"

"Still, Severus will do, Minerva."

"I don't know the reason as to why you're here, Severus, but you should go back to the mental ward you surely have escaped from." Minerva gasped, spluttered, shaking her head at him. "I should call a healer over for you."

"Believe me, Minerva, I am quite fine, aside from the headaches the brat gives me." He smirked at the woman's still shocked expression.

"So you really have …" Minerva asked, needing confirmation.

"I have." He simply answered.

"Well, then be it, Severus. I see that you are already steps ahead of me." Minerva said, her voice holding the worry she felt. "I just ask you to be kind to him, Severus, show to him that you really care."

"I already did show him as much." Snape growled darkly. "You simply will have to trust my judgement and my actions. I will do all that lies in my power to keep him alive as long as possible."

"I guess I have no other choice, Severus." The deputy headmistress answered. "So right now we just have to consider what we will do with the boy as soon as he is released as I am sure you won't take him into your home and we clearly can't send him back to those muggles. As soon as the new term starts he of course will …"

"Did you listen to what I said, you blasted woman?" Snape interrupted her. "I already have adopted Harry Potter and I even have given him my name. Do you not think that in this case it would not be necessary to consider his future home as he already has a room at Prince Manor? And from September on he will live with me in the dungeons. I need him close where I can have an eye on him."

"Potter already has a room at your home?" The deputy headmistress gasped in shock, blinking at him stupidly at this information.

"Did you think I kept him in a cupboard since I have taken him from his relatives and before I decided to bring him here?" Snape asked with a sneer on his face. "That might have been the Dursleys' style, not mine. Of course he has a room at Prince Manor."

"But a student, Severus, a student not living in his dormitory during school? That is unheard of!" Minerva argued.

"I do not care if it is unheard of, Minerva." Snape cast a dark look at the woman. "As Harry is my son now, I do have the right keeping him out of his dormitory and you seem to forget that I am not only a potions teacher but a respectable Potions Master who might be able to invent the potion that maybe could safe his life. I _do_ need the boy close so I can act as soon as any problems will arise. I need him close so I can provide him with the stability he needs and I need him close so I can see how he is doing. He will try to hide his true feelings and state of health he is in and I do not wish giving him the possibility doing so more easily in this tower of his. This point is not up for arguing, Minerva. It simply is necessary."

"But how will you manage this? Having the boy in your rooms during the school year?" Minerva asked.

"I am the head of Slytherin, if you forgot that little fact, the house with the most difficult and mistreated children. Don't you think that I would be able to handle Harry as well?"

"As you have handled him in the past, Severus?" Minerva couldn't help asking.

"I do admit that I did not handle him in the past as I should have done, but I already said, I was wrong about Harry." Snape growled darkly. Did the woman even listen to him? "And I can guarantee you, it won't happen again. I will not pamper the boy as this is the last thing what he right now needs, but I won't mistreat him either. He will get everything he needs, including my attention in form of care, conversations, and even – kindness and understanding. I will handle him as I do my Slytherins."

"But what about affection? Love? The boy surely will need these too."

"Your Gryffindor surely will not want this from me, Minerva." Severus growled. "Aside from the fact that I am not a person that is capable of such a thing as – _love_ – in the fist place, as you should know best. Right now, what will be important for Harry, is a closely controlled medication, a stable situation, understanding and care. And that it is what he will be provided with by me, Minerva."

It took the deputy headmistress some moments to consider his words and then to fight for her composure but sense seemed to take over for once and she sighed in defeat.

"Well, then be it, Severus." She said. "I don't know how you will get Albus to agree, but I will back you up on this if necessary. You can't deny that I do have some influence on him after all."

Severus nodded, knowing exactly what she meant, and a small smirk crossed his face for a moment.

"I can imagine this kind of conversation, Professor McGonagall." He huffed, knowing that it wouldn't be a very pleasant experience for Dumbledore – the reason he had asked for her help in the first place. That woman – as calm as she normally was – but with her Scottish temperament if once baited could be _very_ unpleasant.

"Certainly." She agreed. "And now I think I will have a look at Mr. Potter. I am sure Muriel can wait a few …"

"I think not so, Minerva." Severus said, watching her with serious black eyes.

"I beg your pardon, Severus?" The woman asked, shocked again. "But why ever not?"

"Simply because – _Mr. Snape_ – would not be up to a visit from you right now." The Potions Master answered. "Right now – thanks to those blasted muggles – my son barely trusts _me_ and he has times where he has not a clear mind to begin with. So bringing you in at the present time, he only would withdraw completely and I would not be able to get him out of this state anytime soon."

Again it took Minerva a few moments to consider his words and to accept them, but in the end she did.

"Very well, then I just ask you to keep me informed about his health, will you, Severus?"

He inclined his head and got up, and together they left the office, Minerva McGonagall pausing a moment to watch Severus Snape walking off to the private ward of the children's wing, wondering why the man had bothered to get a room in the private ward for the boy, and the Potions Master leaving the deputy headmistress behind, again wondering why in Merlin's name he had feared that she might took the boy from him. It wasn't that this particular brat was anything else than a stupid, insolent, insufferable and irritating child.

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He had hoped that Harry maybe would still be asleep the moment he finally managed to enter the room the boy lay in after he had been held up by Minerva, but the thirteen year old teenager was already awake and Snape sighed for a moment.

He didn't think that Harry might do something stupid if he was alone, nor that he would feel afraid about being alone. The boy wasn't a three year old anymore after all. But he had promised the boy to be there and he had wanted to keep this promise. Contrary to what Minerva thought he actually wanted to show the boy that he was there and that he cared. But well, the boy was awake and well, the boy looked quite miserable today.

Of course he looked miserable, he sighed. He had watched the teen struggling with each day since he was here. Not that he was here since long. He had watched him struggling and fighting his weakness, his fear and his pain since he had taken him form those wretched relatives of his.

And he had watched him loosing this fight over and over again, had watched his fighting becoming weaker and weaker, lesser and fewer with each day that had passed.

Harry didn't see the dark shadow coming until he was almost upon him and he pushed himself into his pillows, covered his head with his arms when the dark shadow suddenly approached his bed, trying to somehow hide from what would come together with the dark shadow.

Reality – an unsteady thing of the past that came and left on its own desire.

_'Merlin, what have they done to that child?'_ Snape thought, again. He right now didn't see even the slightest resemblance towards James Potter in this child's mannerisms and he simply knew that the contrast in their upbringings was just too big to produce a carbon copy of James Potter.

Slowing his movements he gently pulled Harry's arm away from his face.

"It is just me, Severus." He quietly said. "I won't harm you, Harry." He cleared his throat and pulled out a small vial from one of the pockets of his robes. "I have brewed this potion for you last night." He then added, awkwardly. "In the hope that this one will help with that blasted pain better than the last one did."

He watched the boy's face becoming calmer a bit and reality taking hold once more and he was glad for this. Those times when the boy lost all reality, it only showed him how damaged the child was, and not just physically but mentally as well.

"Uhm … you … you didn' have to, y'know." The boy said in a near whisper and he could hear the misery in the child's words. "I … I'm sorry you had to waste your time, sir. And I … I just wanted to say thank you for coming and get me. I know it's your holiday and all and you don't have to waste anymore time with me."

Snape felt a twinge in his chest, knowing that the boy actually _meant_ what he was babbling. He could see it in his eyes and he could hear it in his words, he just didn't know if Harry remembered the past few days, if he – right now – remembered that he even had been adopted by him, and he looked down into that still so battered face, with one black eye and a lip that continued to threaten breaking open and start bleeding again.

_Why couldn't I see this __all before? Why didn't someone – anyone – know he has been raised with such abuse?_

"I had hoped Nolan had been able to heal those cuts meanwhile." He said more to himself than to anyone in particular. One night away and the sight of his son's still so battered and still so bruised face upset him more than all those days he had been here with the child.

"Isn' important." The boy mumbled and slowly turned his head away from him, and Snape knew that most likely in this state he did not expect any help, and especially not from him – no, the boy did not remember right now, not clearly at least.

"I won't fight for you, Harry." He growled, standing beside the bed the boy lay in.

Well, of course the boy got worse with each day. He was ill and he would die sooner or later – in all likelihood – rather sooner than later.

"I will fight _with_ you, but I will not fight for you."

The chances of survival with such children, children with the breaking core, were minimal to none, and he knew it.

"Why?" The boy asked. "I'll die anyway."

"Why did you ask me for help in the end?" The Potions Master asked, frowning. Wherefrom did the boy know that he would die? He had told him about his core breaking apart, but he doubted that Harry knew what it meant and last time they had talked the boy hadn't sounded as if he knew.

"I didn't … I didn't want my uncle to bring …" The boy murmured. "They would have … they wouldn't have left … I would …" The boy broke off and turned his face to the wall, away from him, but it wasn't necessary for him to continue. Snape knew what the boy meant, he had seen it, and he knew how the boy felt, that deep desperation, pain and fear that threatened to blast him into pieces. But he also knew that the boy would die sooner if he stayed in this state.

"Now you listen." He hissed, taking a step closer and leaning over the boy, placing his hands onto the mattress beside the thin body of his son. "And listen close, child. Never mind how detrimental your chances might be, you will fight. I have adopted you and I have taken you here to give you a chance in the first place. But you will have to fight. I will fight with you, but I will not fight for you. I will stand by your side, but I will not fight alone. We will do this together. Did I make myself clear?"

Snape raised his hand to check the boy for fever when the traumatized teen reared back as if he would strike him.

"I am not here to hurt you. Calm down, child." He quietly reassured. "And stop looking at me as if I were the Dark Lord."

Harry looked away again, again ashamed of his behaviour while slowly reality came back and he remembered again. It wasn't only Snape, his potions teacher, it was Snape, his father. He didn't know if he would ever be able to look that man in the face again after last night though. Why had he done it, why had he let himself cry in front of Snape? While laying in Snape's arm even?

Now the professor had the power to crush him at any moment. All it would take would be a simple word referring to that embarrassing moment. He gripped onto the blanket until his knuckles turned white as shame washed through him once again and he was startled out of his thoughts when Snape spoke again.

"Look at me when I am speaking to you, Harry." The Potions Master calmly said, sitting down onto the mattress and grabbing the child's chin, turning the boy's head towards him. "You have no reason to be ashamed of the predicament you are in. This is not your fault and neither do you deserve this. Do you understand?"

A weak nod came from the boy that blinked at him tiredly.

"Good." The older wizard sighed. "And now, answer my previous question. I will not fight for you, Harry. I will fight together with you, and I will stand by your side, I will help you through this and I will be here, I will not leave you alone, but I will not fight alone either. You will fight with me. We will do this together. Is that understood?"

Again he gained a tired nod and he sighed, not knowing if he was relieved at the nod or worried over how weak and tired it was.

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He watched Harry with a thoughtful expression on his face while the healer tried to loosen the boy's muscles – without success. Potter looked as if he would snap in two at any moment and he narrowed his eyes at the healer's hands.

He still didn't understand why Harry actually _wanted_ him present during his treatments, him of all people, but the boy did, he could see it in his eyes, in his entire features even if the boy never had asked and he – whatever reason for – just wasn't able to reject the silent plea. The boy had been through enough and if his presence gave him a bit of whatever – then why not doing this?

Well, the healer moved his hands neither too roughly nor too fast, he actually did an acceptable job massaging the oil into Harry's skin, but the boy grew more tense with each minute that passed and he could see the healer getting more and more frustrated. It simply was to no avail, he wouldn't be able to get the boy's muscles to relax, that much was sure and Snape inwardly sighed.

"If I may, healer Arden." He finally said, stepping closer and extending his hand towards the vial with the healing oil. He nearly could see the relief on the other wizard's face that immediately withdrew his hands from the boy's back and handed the vial with the clear liquid over to him.

"Of course, Professor Healer Snape." The man said while retreating from the bed and the Potions Master had to keep from growling at the man. He hated being addressed like this while he knew that all the healers would do so out of their respect. "Just call if you need something."

He nodded while he approached the bed by himself and sat onto the edge of the mattress instead of using the stool the healer had been sitting at. Of course Harry had not relaxed, seeing that healer Arden was a stranger to him and he wondered why in Merlin's name Nolan had appointed Arden to be the physical therapist for the boy that – and with a reason – feared strangers, but he knew that the boy needed to relax.

So he poured some of the healing oil onto his left palm and after rubbing his hands together for a moment until the potion had body temperature he gently placed his hands onto the boy's shoulder blades. First one and then the other, ignoring the flinch his son couldn't repress for a moment.

"Some of the muscle tissue, as little as there is on your bones to begin with, have been injured as much as your skin and thus not only your skin is scarred but the little muscles you own as well, so the scars are rather hard and tough." He quietly explained while he started to simply move his thumbs over the boy's shoulder blades in order to get him used to the bodily contact. He knew that Harry reacted only out of fear and he intended to take this fear from the boy. It would take time, he knew, but it would be possible and he would take this time.

"We need to not only loosen your muscles, but we need to try and soften those scars too so you won't have problems moving later." He continued explaining. "The more we achieve now, the easier it will be later for you. Of course it will take time, you will feel the stiffness of the scars for a few months at the least, but it will lessen eventually. If we however do nothing now, then you will have troubles with them forever. And I am sure you do not want this."

It hadn't been a question and so he hadn't expected an answer from the child, so he was a bit surprised when he got a headshake from Harry as soon as the statement was out and he couldn't deny that he was pleased at his son's reaction. It showed him that – at least right now – the child was present and aware, a situation he had learned to be thankful for and he was even more pleased when he felt the boy beginning to relax beneath his hands.

For a moment he nearly gave a startled laugh.

Harry Bloody Potter? Relaxing not only in his presence but over him massaging the healing oil into the skin over his back? That was just ridiculous.

And yet – it was just that way. The boy actually relaxed underneath his hands, even giving away a content sigh and he shook his head. How was it that Harry trusted no one generally, but him so easily these days? Even if it was not always like this, even if there were moments of doubt when the child even feared him? How was it that despite those moments of fears Harry nevertheless was able to trust him at least sometimes, when he was aware of himself and his surroundings?

It took him not even a quarter of an hour and his son was asleep, still laying on his stomach, but perfectly relaxed and his eyes closed, his breathing even, and the Potions Master leaned back and cleaned the oily potion off his hands on a towel, watching the boy with another thoughtful expression on his harsh face.

Well, he was the Darkmaster and as the Darkmaster he had gotten along very well with the blasted Gryffindor. He not only had enjoyed those blasted private dialogues they'd had, but he also had been very concerned about the boy, had worried over him. And Harry as justharry had trusted the Darkmaster enough so he had opened up towards him, even if only reluctantly, but he had. The boy just as well might have just closed the private dialogues instead of answering him his questions, after all. But he hadn't. He had answered, and that surely meant something, didn't it?

Well, and in the end he even had trusted him enough to actually ask for his help, and that too surely meant something, didn't it?

Maybe Harry only had asked for help in the end because he had been close to death, and he was sure that the boy had known this by himself. And there actually had been a few moments during which he, Severus, had feared he actually might lose the child until he'd had him stable after bringing him here to St. Mungos. But the fact remained, that Harry still had trusted not only the Darkmaster enough to open up to him and to ask for help, but he also had trusted him, Snape, enough to allow him taking care of him.

And the strange thing was – not only had he started to care about the child, but he actually was proud at the boy, that he had opened up to him, that he had asked for his help, that he now allowed him to take over, to care for the child that had only known to care for himself, knowing how difficult this must have been for Harry.

If only there would be a chance to …

The door banging open forcefully got him out of his thoughts and even before he had completely turned towards the door he had cast a shielding charm over Harry, now facing the visitor and he was glad that he still held his wand in his hand to cast a privacy charm over the boy as well at seeing Albus entering the room. Surely Harry didn't need to witness the oncoming scene he knew would be anything than pleasant.

"What have you done, Severus!" Albus shouted, not even minding that he _could_ have had startled the patient in the room if he hadn't cast those spells at his son.

"I have done many things since we last met, Albus." Severus calmly responded. "What exactly is it you are referring to?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Severus!" The headmaster shouted, coming to a halt in front of him. "Do you know where I come from right now?"

"As I am not able to read minds, you could come from the toilet for all I know." Severus answered, his eyebrow still raised innocently at the headmaster.

"I come directly from the ministry, Severus!" Albus said, growled at him, his blue eyes accusingly. "You have gone against my order and you have adopted Harry."

"Actually, headmaster, I have done no such thing." Severus answered, still calmly, while he folded his arms in front of his chest, his wand still in his hand. "I have informed you during our last conversation that I would claim guardianship over the boy, and actually you did never give me an order. You only said I should not have taken him, but seeing that his life had been at risk – and still is – I have acted in the only reasonable way - namely taking him from the Dursleys and in the end bringing him here. And even if you _had_ given me an order concerning Harry, headmaster, then I couldn't care less as I actually _did_ adopt him, yes, and he therefore is _my_ responsibility now. You have no more say concerning Harry Snape."

"You are in no position doing such a thing, Severus." Albus took a step towards him, threateningly. "Do not forget that you are still a Death Eater and as a Death Eater you are not allowed to adopt any child."

"You have forgotten one thing, Albus." Severus smiled, unimpressed by the headmaster threatening him. "I not only have been cleared of all charges, but you have been the one who officially made me a spy for the order. In other words, too many people, even some at the ministry know that my Death Eater status is a cover only. Not to mention that – the adoption is already complied. You can't do anything against it. You have lost your weapon, headmaster."

"And you think I won't fight for the boy?" Albus asked, his blue eyes twinkling. "Harry has a prophecy to fulfill after all."

"My son will do no such thing, Dumbledore." Severus sneered, knowing that he had been right all along. "You will have to search for another weapon, because I will not allow my son being used."

"Harry is not your son, Severus!" The older wizard shouted.

"Actually, he is." The Potions Master hissed in annoyance. "Did you not listen to my words? The adoption is already complied."

"Very well, Severus." Dumbledore sighed. "Then I will have to take other means. Do not think that you will be able to keep Harry just because you have adopted him. There will be other ways removing him from you."

"You may try, old man." Severus growled darkly. "But do not think that I will give up on the child. He is not a weapon for you to be used to your leisure and he is not a toy to be played with. He is an innocent child and he needs protection and someone who cares and helps him growing into an adult."

"And you think you are the right person for that, Severus?"

"I don't know what Professor Healer Snape thinks, headmaster Dumbledore, but I, Healer Malfoy, I do think that he is the ideal person to care for Mr. Harry Potter now Snape." Nolan's voice came from the doorway, the man – just like he had seen him the afternoon before – flanked by two wardens. "I do not know how you got access to this private ward in the children's wing, headmaster Dumbledore, but I suggest that you leave now before I have you removed by force."

"Of course, Healer _Malfoy_." Dumbledore spat the name, looking the other man over before he turned back towards Severus. "The last word concerning this matter however is not spoken yet, Severus." He added before he turned towards the door and left, the two guards allowing him through before they both followed him down the corridor. Severus Snape knew that they would escort him to the gates of St. Mungos.

Cancelling both, the shield charm and the privacy spell Severus sat down into one of the armchairs beside the bed, his shoulders bend and his head resting in his face.

"Do not worry, Severus." Nolan said, placing a firm hand at the Potions Master's shoulder. "I will have two wardens guarding this room and I will notify child welfare immediately about the threat Dumbledore has spoken right now. I also will contact my father to ask him sending one of his lawyers over as usual.

"You do realize that Albus Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard, don't you?" Severus groaned.

"So what?" Nolan asked. "Even the most powerful wizard has a force he has to bend to."

"Albus Dumbledore always gets what he wants." The Potions Master said, lifting his head and looking over at the bed, only now realizing that he was about to lose the child he had adopted only days ago. Only that this time it was not to death but to a crazy but powerful old wizard that wanted the boy as a weapon in a war.

"If you give up now, then yes." Nolan said, shrugging his shoulders. "If you fight, you'll at least have a chance."

"Of course I will fight!" Severus growled darkly. "I just do not think that I will stand a chance. I am a Death Eater after all."

"You did not sound like that a moment ago when Dumbledore threatened you." Nolan scowled, glowering at him dangerously. "You may go on like this, but then you just as well might bring your son over to the ministry to hand him over to the old man or you can get a grip at yourself and prepare for fighting for your son."

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Memories, talks and ideas on how to keep the headmaster from taking Harry ...  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	24. memories and treachery

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Albus Dumbledore always gets what he wants." The Potions Master said, lifting his head and looking over at the bed, only now realizing that he was about to lose the child he had adopted only days ago. Only that this time it was not to death but to a crazy but powerful old wizard that wanted the boy as a weapon in a war._

_"If you give up now, then yes." Nolan said, shrugging his shoulders. "If you fight, you'll at least have a chance."_

_"Of course I will fight!" Severus growled darkly. "I just do not think that I will stand a chance. I am a Death Eater after all."_

_"You did not sound like that a moment ago when Dumbledore threatened you." Nolan scowled, glowering at him dangerously. "You may go on like this, but then you just as well might bring your son over to the ministry to hand him over to the old man yourself or you can get a grip at yourself and prepare for fighting for your son."_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-four **

**Memories and treachery **

**Thursday**

He hadn't slept well last night. He actually had slept horrible last night. Nightmares had disturbed his sleep over and over again, nightmares about Albus Dumbledore taking his son, pulling his son out of his arms while he, Severus, tried to hold onto the thin and delicate form, knowing how much he hurt his son with his tight grip while he at the same time knew that his son would die if he let go of him, and at five in the morning – and still feeling the desperation from his nightmares lingering in his mind – he had known that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyway. And so he had gotten of and he quickly had gotten himself ready to go back to St. Mungos. Once again he had told Zilly that he would be back in the late evening after the brat had fallen asleep and once again Zilly had – nearly – huffed at him disbelievingly.

Well, he really couldn't hold it against the small creature. He had told the house elf that he would be back in the evening yesterday, yet it had been late night – nearly early morning. It at least had been past midnight he had come back to Prince Manor after all – once again after Nolan had thrown him out.

Of course he had accused the healer of being there for the night as well instead of going to sleep, but of course Nolan had countered that he had slept during the morning and that he would go home for sleep the moment he, Severus, would be back the next morning. And of course he had told the healer that he had every right being there, seeing that the child at St. Mungos was his son after all, but of course Nolan had told him that – yes, he had the right being there, but only after he had rested enough. The blasted man even had threatened to admit him into the ward for exhausted persons that needed rest without allowing themselves having just that if he so desperately wished to stay at the hospital. As if St. Mungos had such a ward!

And right now, at half past six in the morning, he was crossing the entrance hall to the children's wing.

The hospital was eerily silent so early in the morning. There were no visitors and there were no children running along the corridors, they all were sleeping still, and there barely was a healer either as the night shift would end in half an hour just while the early shift had just started half an hour ago. Most of the healers were in the staff rooms to discuss their patients and what might have happened during the night, what would be important for the day.

There wouldn't be much to do concerning Harry, he knew. The tests had been done and he was set up on his medications. The only thing they could do now was to try and talk sense into the boy, proving to him that they would be there and that they would not leave him alone, to do some physical exercises with the boy – and to keep him alive, and safe.

Nolan had contacted his father yesterday evening already, and already an hour later there had been a plump man in his mid fiftieth who had come over and had asked him, Severus, for his memories concerning Albus Dumbledore. He had extracted those memories he thought would be important to keep his son safe from the headmaster, the conversations he'd had with the older wizard concerning Harry, when he first had addressed him while he still had been in that chat room. He also had given the memory of when he had taken the boy from the Dursleys as well as the one when Albus had appeared at his manor an hour later. And the conversation he'd had with Albus here at St. Mungos of course, when the older wizard had threatened him.

Johnson, the lawyer, had suggested that he add memories on his spying duties as well and when everything had been done he had copied them for the ministry. Nolan had taken those copied memories and had told the lawyer that he had his own people there which he would prefer working with and Severus had been glad for this. He trusted Nolan, whereas he didn't know Johnson and didn't know if he would choose the right people at the ministry.

"Excuse me." A deep and rough voice got him out of his thoughts and he stopped mid-step to turn back towards the voice. "Are you Master Snape?"

He watched an old – a _really_ old man, most likely much older than Dumbledore even, who came towards him, regarding him curiously, and he gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

The man's face was covered in thousands and thousands of wrinkles, white hair falling into a sunburned and weather beaten face and black eyes were watching him sharply.

"My name is … Hotaru Katsumi." He said and Severus narrowed his eyes at the slight hesitation the man used before telling his name – what gained him a smirk from the old man. "Yes, yes, I know. I just for a moment wondered if you would prefer my real name or the translation. But calling me a firefly would be a bit – let me name it strange, for the lack of a better word, Master Snape."

"And what may I do for you, Mr. Katsumi?" The Potions Master asked while inclining his head to indicate he had understood.

"Oh, simply Master Hotaru will do, Master Snape." The man now chuckled, a deep sound and Severus wondered how such an old man could still have such a deep voice. "I fear you won't be able to do anything for me, I am a quite very satisfied man with what I have. I however heard that your son is suffering from a broken core and even if I have no definite cure, I do know a way to prolong death for some time and to ease the affected child's mind."

Severus' head snapped up at this immediately and the dark expression in his face smoothed out a bit.

"Master Snape!" A squeaky voice got both men's attention before Hotaru could give an answer to the man's unspoken question and they both turned towards the wide flight of stairs that led to the wards in the children's wing to see a house elf running down hastily. "And Master Snape, quickly! Master Nolan said to get …"

There was no need for the house elf to say anything more and with a short "follow me" Severus hasted towards the stairs, cursing the blasted elf for not simply popping up beside him but wasting time by running along the corridors and down the stairs, precious time during which the boy already could be … Merlin! He better did not think about that or what might have happened now and only at the edge of his awareness he noticed that Master Hotaru ran alongside him, keeping up his speed easily despite his old age.

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He had left his small office as soon as the elf had announced the ministry official's arrival in the room Severus' son lay in and he had cursed the fact that the fireplaces at St. Mungos were open to the ministry. What did they want here? He had contacted his source at the ministry and he was sure that it was a trustworthy man that wouldn't bring in a horde of ministry officials, and neither would he use the floo to arrive in the room the child lay in, but he would contact _him_ first, would meet him in his office first. Had Dumbledore brought them in?

"No, Mr. Potter, we need to hear your account of what allegedly had happened at Privet Drive." He heard Minister Fudge's voice just the moment he entered the room, the man standing beside the bed, circling his hat in both of his hands. "Let's begin on the day the alleged abuse took place."

For a moment Nolan stood there, shocked. Alleged abuse? It was no alleged abuse! Anyone could see that with just looking at the child! And what exact day of abuse did the blasted man mean anyway? Considering the child's scars that covered his thin body there were hundreds over hundreds of days the child had suffered at the hands of his relatives!

"Annie." He softly said, turning towards the house elf that had followed him. "Please go and fetch Professor Snape as quickly as possible." The wide eyed house elf immediately turned and fled the situation and Nolan couldn't help shaking his head, turning his attention back to the room and stepping inside.

"Uhm … I really don't feel so good right now … couldn't we … couldn't we do this at another day?" He heard Harry asking and it was clear that the child was not only frightened but in a right state already, pressing himself against the headboard.

"No, Mr. Potter, we need to hear from your own mouth what …"

"You have heard the boy." Nolan growled. "He is not well yet and he does not feel good. This is a hospital ward and not a questioning room at the ministry. I ask you to leave my patient right now."

He could see them turning and he could see Dumbledore, his expression one of calculation and he narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn't trust Dumbledore, never had. He had too many Slytherin students in his ward over and over again than trusting a man that was the headmaster of a school that allowed his students being abused without doing something against it – and he knew that Severus didn't trust him anymore either.

"We only need to hear Mr. Potter's account and then we will be gone." Fudge said, watching him nervously.

"I … I fell down the stairs … that's all." Harry's small voice came from the bed and the healer nearly groaned inwardly. He knew that Harry only was scared, they always were, but the child better had not said anything.

"You are sure you fell down the stairs, Mr. Potter?" Fudge said, looking back at the boy.

"You do not have to answer his question, Harry." Nolan said, taking a few steps towards the bed and trying to get the minister backing away a bit. "This is no official hearing."

"Yes, sir, I fell." The boy answered nevertheless. "And I really don't wish to talk about it anymore."

"You will have to go back to the Dursleys if you don't tell the truth, Mr. Potter." Fudge said, the speed with which he turned his hat in his hands increasing.

"I do hope that this has not been a threat, Minister." Nolan growled, finally extending his hand and carefully trying to get the minister backing off the bed. He knew that he wouldn't need trying to do the same with Dumbledore, as the old coot surely would not follow his lead. But the minister that looked at him startled right now did, followed his outstretched arm and took a step back.

"What … but no, no, of course not, healer Malfoy, you misunderstood."

"I … I'm telling the truth. I fell." The boy said, his expression close to panic now. "My head is hurting again. Could I please just go to sleep?" He softly asked, still watching them with his large and scared eyes.

"Not now, Mr. Potter, we …"

"If that child states that he is not ready to talk to you about the abuse right now, then he _is not_ ready." Snape's soft but cold and sharp voice came from the doorway. "And therefore I expect you to leave this private intensive care unit right now as you have not even announced your visit here for today. One should think that the minister of magic is capable following standard protocols."

There was silence for a moment before Fudge uttered an "of course, of course" and then turned towards the floo to leave, Dumbledore following him after glaring at the Potions Master who only glared back at the headmaster.

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"And you are sure that you have a way to help the child?" Nolan asked.

Severus had nodded at the other healer the moment Fudge and Dumbledore had left the room and Nolan had rounded the bed, had approached the magical devices to allow another shot of calming potion being added to Harry's system while he, Severus, had approached the bed his son was still sitting in, trembling, frightened and clearly unable to deal with the situation and Fudge's threat.

"Yes, there is a way to – not save, but keep a split core of a wizarding child from splitting any further for at least some time, years maybe even." The old Master said, whatever his Mastery was in, he had not told them yet.

He immediately had tried to calm Harry down, had told him that the minister's threat was only that, a threat, that he would never allow the man taking him back to the Dursleys, that he would keep him safe, and only after that Harry had fallen asleep, the strain of that early morning visit clearly catching up on him.

"It is an ancient way known by very few and can only be performed under few conditions."

"What precise conditions are we speaking of here, Master Hotaru?" Snape asked, still sitting at the edge of the bed the boy was laying in, his hand unconsciously placed above the child's shoulder, his thumb – traitorously – running over the boy's neck.

Hotaru looked over at the small form, his black eyes going soft while he watched the boy with a sad sigh before he readjusted his eyes at the Potions Master.

"It can only be performed on an innocent child that is pure on mind, soul and heart, and I can see that this child is." He then said. "And it can only be performed by a mentor or an elder that holds the child's trust and cares deeply for the child. It has to be performed with only the purest of motives. _You_ will have to be the one, Master Snape, to step onto this ancient path with the child, because _you_ are the only one classified as one who cares deeply for him."

"Then the boy will have no chance, for I am far from innocent." Severus said, despair clearly audible in his voice now, and pain and sorrow clearly visible in his black eyes.

"You have redeemed yourself many times over to everyone but yourself." Nolan growled darkly, casting an angry glance towards the Potions Master.

"I am not a caring man, Nolan!" Severus hissed angrily, glaring at the healer.

"You may lie to yourself as much as you wish, Severus, but I have seen the love and the care you show towards this particular child." Nolan growled back, levelling the darker man's gaze. "You _do_ care for Harry, this is the child you are caring for as a son."

"I have adopted him and so I of course show …"

"You do not only _show_, Potions Master." Hotaru calmly said, cutting off the younger wizard. "Your eyes are betraying you, as do your anger – and your hand. You _do_ care and you do care _deeply_, and rightfully so. As for you being innocent – you have done what has been necessary, you have done it to the best of your ability to keep the harm at a minimum. I can see that in your soul, young man. And I also can see that the good you have done, has paid your debt tenfold. You will be able to step onto this path together with your son."

Severus Snape at those words looked over at the old man and for a moment time itself seemed to stop, seemed to stand still, while nothing moved, while no sound was to be heard, while only two pair of black eyes met, one young, and one ancient, one unsure and one full of confidence.

A strand of black hair was moving into his face, moving in the soft breeze while at the same time a strand of white hair was moving out of the old man's face, and suddenly he could feel the cracks the child had caused in the wall he had built around himself throughout the years now split into fragments that fell off his shell and from one moment to the other he understood that yes – he was a harsh man and he ever would be, that yes – he was a sarcastic man and he ever would be, that yes, he was a strict man and he ever would be – but that yes – he did care and yes he was not a bad person, he was forgiven.

And only then time seemed to snap back into its natural flow, like an elastic starp, and Severus Snape looked over to the window that was closed, that did not allow a breeze in.

"I do not hold Harry's trust." He quietly said, nearly murmured, his eyes back again on the old man but distant somehow.

"Oh, but you do, young Potions Master." Hotaru said. "The child being calmed and sleeping peacefully by simply your hand resting on his shoulder is betraying his own doubts and fears. You will be able to step onto this path together with your son." He then repeated with a smile on the unbelievingly wrinkled and old face.

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"Is there something you left out, child?" Hotaru asked after the child had stopped speaking. He had watched Severus Snape while the boy had told him that he had been beaten by his relatives, that he had been starved and that he'd had to work like a slave, and he had seen the frown on the Potions Master's face when the child had so easily admitted towards him what had happened at his relatives' house while the younger man had needed days on days to get this information out of the child. But just like no one earlier had noticed him calling up the most important element of magic when he had spoken to Severus Snape, one that most people didn't even call an element, namely freedom, no one noticed him calling up this element once again now while speaking with the child.

The boy this time however shook his head, only drawing further into himself.

"Harry, I do know that there was more." Severus said softly. "I was there to take you out of the Dursley's. I have seen the state you were in, your room were in."

But the child only shook his head, starting to cry, being back to denial, and Snape knew – Harry was sure that he would use this against him, even if he right now was being kind to him, he knew that the boy …

"No." Harry whispered.

"You will have to deal with what has happened, Harry." He softly said, still not pulling his hand back from where he had placed it onto the boy's lower arm and he successfully prevented the child pulling his arm towards himself from underneath his hand by increasing the pressure. "We have found a way to help you, to stop the seizures as well as your core splitting any more for the time being, but you will have to work together with us on this."

"I just want it to stop!" Harry miserably said, finally looking up at his new father again. "I don't even know why I have them and I want them to go away."

"If we do this correctly, and if we go through with this, never mind what, then they will not stay forever, child." Severus tried to reason with his son. "But at the present time you will have to accept them as a part of your life. I do know that they are scary, but you know that we are here to help you. I also do know that in the past you had to care for yourself and that it will be hard for you now to allow us overtaking this part, but you have people around you now that are ready to take this burden off your shoulders and you can trust them to take care of you. And that means that right now, you will have to deal with what has happened – what can be done by either speaking about the abuse, or by me using legillimence."

"What … what is …" The boy started, drifting off and Severus nearly smirked.

"Legillimence allows me to enter your mind with mine." He simply said.

"So … so you'll be able to see into my mind?" The boy asked, nearly horrified and he was sure that he did not like this thought a bit, him, Snape, being in his head and looking for – _mistakes_ as the child undoubtedly feared. "As in reading my thoughts?"

"No, not exactly." He answered. "The human mind is not read like a book, Harry. I will not be able reading your thoughts, I only will be able viewing memories together with you and we will be able to go through them, one by one. You will not have to go through them alone, you will not have to face them alone, I already have told you, I will fight together with you, I will be by your side, never mind what."

"You said I had two options." Harry said, his voice small and quiet and Severus leaned down onto the bed, towering over the boy that looked up at him startled.

"Yes, I did." He slowly answered. "I however did not say that they both were available to you."

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"Those exercises you should work on twice a day to help lessen the pain in your joints and muscles and to return you to full mobility." Severus said after he had shown Harry how to stretch and move his limbs, starting with his fingers, wrists, his arms and shoulders. "We not only will have to ease your mind, but your body as well from being tense and wound up." He would show him more exercises in a few days, how to work with his legs, but not right now. The strain of working with his arms and hands right now would be enough for once. "And later tonight I will stretch your muscles so you won't get too stiff until tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, on a torture rack." Harry muttered as he leaned back into the pillows that were stacked up against the headboard.

"As you wish, Mr. Snape." The Potions Master gave a mock bow towards the boy, one arm even placed behind his back, causing the boy to smile sheepishly at him, a sight he had to admit – he enjoyed. It was the first display of a simple and normal boy and even if he knew that it would be a sole occasion, he enjoyed it.

They would have to get the boy to a routine. Regular times for meals five times a day, regular hours of sleep during the night, regular times for doing those exercises to loosen his muscles, as much as the boy seemed to hate them, and regular times for entering the child's mind and working through his memories – not to mention regular free times for the child doing what each and every nearly fourteen year old child would do.

It wasn't actual legillimens he would be doing, he would not use the spell for entering the child's mind but rather their connection, Hotaru had explained him how to do this and he was sure that it was quite easy, that he would manage. The question was – would Harry manage? The boy was a wreck and his mind already was a mess. He had seen it. And right now the child that still was halfway sitting there had his eyes devoid of any emotion, his body by now slumped forwards a bit and the lack of nutrition was definitely taking its toll on him in more than one way. Coupled with his earlier exertion – it had left the child drained – and wishing to stop fighting, he could see that too.

"You will have to fight, Mr. Snape." He said, still maintaining his expressionless mask. "I know that it is hard for you, but I have told you – I will not fight alone. I will fight with you, but not alone, you will have to fight as well. And yet, you barely eat, you barely sleep peacefully. Take a look at yourself, for Merlin's sake!" And with a flick of his wand he had a mirror conjured at the foot of the bed. The startled expression on the boy's face told him enough, told him that he had not known how much he looked like death in person instead of a living teenager.

Of course he knew that it was harsh, that it even was unfair because it wasn't the child's fault in the first place. But if it was this what it took to get the boy fighting for himself, to get the boy out of his daze, then be it, then he would do that, then he would be harsh and unfair as much as he disliked it, because all those times during which the child was so unresponsive lately, they frightened the hell out of him, even if he never would admit that.

"Do you like what you see?" He took a deep breath. "If you break down, you only will help your uncle in thinking he had won. Do not let him destroy you this easily. Show him that you are the stronger one, and you _are_ stronger than him, you know you are, deep down, I am sure that you know as well as I know this. Do not allow him that satisfaction, do not allow him that power over you. I know that it is unfair, I know that you have to straighten out now what crimes he has committed against you, but in the end it will be _you living_. Do you not think that this is worth it?"

For a moment there actually had been a spark of something in the boy's green eyes when he had nodded, but then it was gone and back was an exhausted child.

"I'm just so tired." Came the whisper.

"I know." Severus said, looking at the boy with sad eyes. "And there is nothing wrong with that. Go to sleep, but do not forget that the moment you wake up, you will have to fight again. And _you_ of all people should know that fighting never is easy, Harry. I do not deny that. But it is necessary if you wish to win against your uncle and the crimes he has committed against you, and I will be there, by your side, to fight together with you."

"For once, I have to agree with you, Snape." A growl came from the door and Severus immediately got off his chair, his wand in his hand and a moment later he had a shield cast over his son yet again even before he turned towards the door.

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With a scowl on his face he limped along the corridor, leaning onto the staff heavily and he wondered how it had come to this, he of all people supporting Snape. Blast that man!

And yet, it seemed that he had been wrong about the blasted miscreant.

He had been startled the moment Malfoy had asked him to go through Snape's memories. Not that he did this the first time, Malfoy – the _younger_ Malfoy, mind you – always asked _him_ if he had a case where he had to protect a child, but mostly it was against the Death Eaters or some muggles that didn't know how to handle a wizarding child. Not protecting a child and therefore supporting a Death Eater against Dumbledore.

And yet – he wasn't so sure anymore if Snape really ever had been a real Death Eater. From what he had seen in the blasted man's memories, he never really _had_ _been_ one. He might have made a mistake in his youth, yes, but he never had been really in it and he had no sooner started spying for Dumbledore than he had been marked.

Dumbledore on the other hand – he wasn't so sure anymore if the _old idiot_ really ever had been so great and good. Oh, he was no fool, he was no idiot either and he always had known that Dumbledore not only was a very powerful wizard but that he actually was a cruel man if he had to be. But the memories he had seen, Snape's memories, they actually had disturbed him, had upset him even.

He himself was a harsh man and he knew that pampering Potter would be the worst thing possible, but to actually abandon a child – any child – to abuse on a degree like Potter had been through at the hands of those blasted muggles, that was nothing he would call preparing someone for war. Dumbledore had used Potter as a tool only and he not only had risked the boy's life but he had known about the abuse and had done nothing, was now even planning to send the boy back.

He would not allow this, even if it meant going against Dumbledore and supporting Snape.

Merlin, he had seen the state Potter had been in when Snape had taken him from the Dursleys and he had seen how the blasted Potions Master had fought for the boy's life. He had read the reports Nolan had sent over to him and he had collected Pomfrey's reports – much to the woman's protests. Nolan's reports spoke volumes and he knew what a broken core meant. Potter would die. The only question was _when_ and _how_ he would die.

Pomfrey's reports on the other hand – they had held nothing aside from Potter being a bit too thin for her liking. Nothing else, and he was sure he knew the reason for that because he also knew that Pomfrey was a very reliable and consistent witch when it came to child abuse. She would have pestered Dumbledore if the ever had seen something that could be considered as child abuse. And yet she hadn't as it seemed, and so he was sure that Dumbledore had obliviated her. There was no other explanation in his opinion and that alone was a crime in itself.

There was a reason after all as to why only special trained Aurors were allowed to obliviate persons, never mind if muggles or witches and wizards, and the fact that Dumbledore had done so on Pomfrey to hide Potter's abuse, startled him, he had to admit. It only was proof that Dumbledore had _meant_ Potter being abused in such a bad way, being beaten and starved, raped even, to harden him, to make him his weapon – and his alone!

And that Dumbledore was ready to do crimes to get what he wanted.

He himself was a hard man, a warrior, always ready to die in the war, and he himself knew that Potter had to learn how to fight, that Potter had to be taught more than just what Hogwarts offered the students. But not even _he_ would freely subject a child to abuse to do so, to teach said child what pain meant and how to endure it.

He reached the room Potter lay in and heard Snape speaking.

"And later tonight I will stretch your muscles so you won't get too stiff until tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, on a torture rack." He heard Potter muttering and he nearly chuckled at the words – of course Potter would think of Snape torturing him, it was like the dungeons bat to torture his students after all, the poor souls.

"As you wish, Mr. Snape." He heard Snape's answer, and seeing his mock bow towards the boy, one arm even placed behind his back, he nearly snorted. This definitely was a side on Snape he never before had seen. He would have bet his backside that Snape would Skin Potter for such a remark, but no, Snape even joked with Potter, making the boy grin.

Good, so the boy still had a living soul somewhere inside himself.

A moment later however he could see Potter's eyes drifting off and becoming distant – as did his face.

"You will have to fight, Mr. Snape." He heard Snape saying and he frowned at the man's repeated use of "Mr. Snape" instead of "Mr. Potter". So – Snape actually meant it with his adoption of Potter, had given him even his name. He wasn't stupid and he knew that this was one of the highest regards possible, giving someone his name. "I know that it is hard for you, but I have told you – I will not fight alone. I will fight with you, but not alone, you will have to fight as well. And yet, you barely eat, you barely sleep peacefully. Take a look at yourself, for Merlin's sake!"

He watched Snape conjuring a mirror at the foot of Potter's bed and the startled face of the boy made clear that – no, he had not looked into one for a long time. So, Snape was able to wake the boy, to get him realizing that he would have to fight if he wished to survive this with a somewhat intact mind. He knew that it was _harsh_ doing so with an abused child, but he also knew that it was necessary. And as it seemed, Snape was able to.

For a moment he nearly snorted again. Of course Snape was able to. Snape loved it to torture children! Snape was a harsh person after all. Maybe it was that reason for he always had respected Snape, even if he had not liked him, had disliked him greatly for supporting the dark side – what he apparently hadn't.

"Do you like what you see?" He heard Snape continuing. "If you break down, you only will help your uncle in thinking he had won. Do not let him destroy you this easily. Show him that you are the stronger one, and you are stronger than him, you know you are, deep down, I am sure that you know as well as I know this. Do not allow him that satisfaction, do not allow him that power over you. I know that it is unfair, I know that you have to straighten out now what crimes he has committed, but in the end it will be _you living_. Do you not think that this is worth it?"

Yes, there was something in Potter's eyes for a moment before it was gone again, the boy murmuring that he was tired.

"I know." He heard Snape, looking at the boy with sad eyes and he realized that Snape meant it. "And there is nothing wrong with that. Go to sleep, but do not forget that the moment you wake up, you will have to fight again. And you of all people should know that fighting never is easy, Harry. I do not deny that. But it is necessary if you wish to win against your uncle and the crimes he has committed against you, and I will be there, by your side, to fight together with you."

"For once, I have to agree with you, Snape." He growled, getting Snape's attention who immediately got off his chair, his wand in his hand and a moment later he had a shield cast over Potter's bed even before he turned towards him. Good, Snape was ready to protect the boy without even thinking about it.

"What do you want, Moody?" The man asked with a sneer on his face.

"I've been through your memories, Snape." He growled back.

"You … Nolan gave _my_ memories to … _you_!" Snape growled angrily and he smirked at the man. Yes, he could imagine that Snape didn't like _this_ – a fact that made this nearly worthwhile, he had to admit, feeling amused.

"I won't attack Potter, you can lift the shield." He pointed at the bed where Potter had been sitting up, startled and a moment later Snape flicked his wand, taking off the shield he had protected Potter with. "I rather have come to discuss our next course of actions in keeping him safe from – some meddling old idiots."

"I suggest we do not discuss this here." Snape growled darkly at him and he knew that the man was seething. "Nolan will be here in a moment. Go and bother someone else until then, Moody."

And chuckling Moody did, left the room and went towards the suit in the entrance hall of the children's emergency ward of St. Mungos, allowed himself to sink down onto the sofa and pulled his good leg up. Yes, that felt good, having his leg laying there, resting for once, and again he started thinking of the man he had just a moment ago seen interacting with Potter.

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The clock chimed seven times just the moment a storm came in, the dark clouds hanging over St. Mungos, bathing the hospital in an eerie light and causing some of the smaller children to look out of the window, scared, while the older children didn't mind, kept sitting in the hallways, in their rooms, talking and joking, or kept running through the hallways, quickly sidestepping the Potions Master in their rush to avoid running into him.

It was just a normal evening at St. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries, only a normal evening at the children's wing of the hospital, only a normal evening during which children of all ages were filling the hallways, trying to distract themselves from whatever maladies or injuries they suffered from, only a normal evening during which the Potions Master walked along the corridors, for once not minding the children running in the corridors, knowing that it was normal here, knowing that they needed this, that they needed to move, that the needed feeling at home, safe, normal.

The moment Severus Snape reached the open door to Harry's room he stopped mid-step and suddenly he felt his blood growing cold, felt his stomach dropping, and felt his heart stop beating for a moment before it started again with such heavy beating it physically hurt – because his son's bed was empty while Dumbledore, Fudge and a few Aurors were arguing with Nolan, and he immediately knew what had happened.

Dumbledore must have gotten the minister to push for Harry being returned to the Dursley's and he must have used the emergency floo at St. Mungos to let all those Aurors into the boy's room.

And if that was the case then Harry was …

"Where is my son?" He said with a dangerously low tone of voice as he glared at Fudge.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_What can one do against Albus Dumbledore and the Ministry?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	25. disowned and not disowned

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_The moment Severus Snape reached the door to Harry's room he stopped mid-step and suddenly he felt his stomach dropping, felt his heart stop beating for a moment before it started again with such heavy beating it physically hurt – because Potter's bed was empty while Dumbledore, Fudge and a few Aurors were arguing with Nolan, and he immediately knew what had happened._

_Dumbledore must have gotten the minister to push for Harry being returned to the Dursleys and he must have used the emergency floo at St. Mungos to let all those Aurors into the boy's room._

_And if that was the case then Harry was __…_

_"Where is my son?" He said with a dangerously low tone of voice as he glared at Fudge._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-five **

**Disowned and not disowned  
**

**Thursday**

"Where is my son?" He said with a dangerously low tone of voice as he glared at Fudge.

The minister of magic definitely seemed glad that he was surrounded by four Aurors when he looked over at the tall and dark figure of the Potions Master that stood there, threateningly, dangerously, and he took a deep breath before he spoke with a definitely false bravado. "You have no son Snape. If you are talking about Harry Potter, the boy is back with his family where he belongs to … now don't do something …"

"What happened here?" Moody growled from behind, darkly, while Severus quickly scanned the room and tried to come up with a plan to get to the Dursleys right now, realizing that two of the Aurors were blocking the fireplace while the other two stood to either side of the minister, slightly in front of him.

Moody didn't need an answer to his question, the scene he took in was quite unmistakable and he gave an audible growl away while he quickly looked at Snape, noticing the wheels in the man's head turning, trying to consider whom of the aurors he best could attack first in order to get what he wanted and he gave a short shaking of his head, hoping the blasted Not-Death Eater wouldn't do anything stupid in his attempt to get back his son, while he suddenly understood the sides.

Snape may have done terrible things in his youth, but he was nothing compared to Albus Dumbledore who sacrificed innocent children to get what he wanted – to fight a war he himself was not willing to carry on his shoulders himself. And Snape right now was helping the Boy-Who-Lived while Dumbledore was hurting this same boy.

"Mr. Harry Snape, former Potter, has been under medications which are vital, Minister." Nolan again tried to reason with the man. "He will die without them and you actually are risking an innocent child's life. He needs those medications and he needs being watched by a profession 24 hours a day, Minister."

"Albus said it wasn't as bad and …"

"I have sent you my medical reports already after your last visit here, Minister, and you still do trust a man that abducts a child from hospital and denies him medical care?"

"It had been Snape who has abducted Potter from his relatives' house!" Dumbledore growled and Moody narrowed his eyes. He had seen the condition Potter had been in back then and he knew that Dumbledore had known, Dumbledore had been at Prince Manor when Snape had shown him the bloodied towel and his bloodied hands after healing that boy. Snape had not abducted Potter, he had saved his life, that boy would be dead by now had Snape not taken him from there. No court would sentence Snape – at least no fair judge, and he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sure this will clear one way or another." Moody growled with a dark look at Snape, hoping the blasted Not-Death-Eater would understand – the man was supposed to be intelligent, after all. "Dawlish and Savage, you are released from your duty for the remainder of the day. Williamson, please guard the minister back to the ministry safely, and Shacklebolt, you'll stay here, we have to discuss guarding plans so no one can get Potter from his relatives again without my knowledge."

Dumbledore had looked worried for a moment, he noticed, but upon his words about making sure that no one would get Potter from his relatives without his knowledge – well, he had fooled the old fool, as it seemed, because he too left and he hoped that Snape would let the man go without another word. The more they discussed right now, the more Potter's life would be at stake.

"I need you at the Dursleys, Kingsley, to create a diversion while I take Potter from the house." He said the moment the minister as well as the blasted headmaster had left through the floo and he had cast a few different and very strong privacy charms. "I also need you to alter the Dursley's minds so that they will think Potter still resides with them, at least until the papers are back from child welfare. As soon as you're done at the Dursleys, I need you back here, and bring Dawlish and Savage with you."

"I will accompany you." Snape said, already taking a step towards the floo without another comment.

"You will stay right here, Snape." Moody growled darkly. "And you won't do anything stupid. I'll go to the Dursleys and …"

"I will come with you and make sure that …"

"You won't, Snape." Moody cut him off. "You only would end up in Azkaban. I'll bring your son back to you safely, Snape, trust me for once. I'll take Malfoy with me, just in case."

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"You did tell your son that he should trust you, Master Snape." Hotaru said the moment he was about to lean close to Moody to give him a piece of his mind. "Do not risk the child's life by wasting time and arguing, and do not risk ending up in Azkaban when your son needs you so desperately."

For a moment Severus gritted his teeth, but then he took a step back, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that Moody and Shacklebolt left through the floo together with Nolan. He knew that Moody as well as Hotaru were right, that he not only risked Harry's life by arguing, but that he wouldn't be of any help to his son if he were in Azkaban. But even though Nolan was with them to take care of Harry at once – it was nearly unbearable to not being there to get the boy back.

"I know that it is not easy for you, trusting those aurors and anyone aside from you with your son's life, but it is necessary right now." That blasted old man said and he wondered why he agreed to a complete stranger. And yet – he had to admit, that man was right.

Sinking down to sit at the bed Harry had been laying in he run his hand over his face, worried, and he wasn't able to keep from thinking of what Harry must be going through right now while he could feel panic rising in his chest at the thought of finding the boy in the same condition he had been in on his last visit to the Dursleys. And he knew that with the child back at his abusive relatives' house anything could happen, especially as the child must feel terrified upon being brought back to the Dursleys, he must feel betrayed by him, his father, even!

Merlin, he had promised him that he never would have to go back! He … he had promised the child something that he hadn't been able to keep!

**Flashback**

_"__I want to help you because you simply __do__ need help. You are here, Potter, in need of someone who cares for once in your life and I am here, ready to give this care. And before you ask, you are my student, so of course I do care. So we can make this easy and both accept that fact, or we can make it difficult and go against each other, what won't help either of us in the first place."_

_"But I don't understand …" The boy whispered._

_"Is there need to understand?" Snape simply asked. "I do know that you do not understand and I am aware of your fear and mistrust on your part towards my person. But I ask you to try and simply accept the fact that I am here and that I am ready to help you. For once in your life there will be an adult that is ready to help – so just accept it, you idiot child."_

_"I can't." The damnable brat whispered, his body going limp with resignation, his eyes going down onto his hands with shame or embarrassment, he didn't know. "Because it won't last anyway, because I will have to go back anyway. I have already told the Darkmaster. But he didn't believe me either."_

_With a sigh and his teeth still pressed together Snape grabbed the boy's chin and forced his head back up to look at him again._

_"First, you have my word that you will never have to go back there." He growled darkly. "You can stay here for as long as you need and for as long as you wish, child. I will not let your uncle near you ever again, and that, Harry, is a promise. And I __do__ tend to keep my promises. Not to mention that I simply do not approve of child abuse."_

**End flashback**

'_I'll kill the bastard if he lays one hand on my son again!'_ Snape thought at remembering of how Dursley had turned an innocent child into a frightened boy who had lost all confidence in himself – and others._ 'There is no way I am giving up on that boy! He will be a child that can enjoy his youth. He will be a child that can trust the adults around him! And he will survive this mess! Even if it is the last thing I do!'_

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All around him was dark, so very dark and everything hurt. His head hurt from where uncle Vernon had slammed it into the wall and his back hurt from where uncle Vernon had taken the belt to him again. His stomach hurt from where uncle Vernon had kicked at him and his wrist hurt from where he had tried to absorb the fall when uncle Vernon had thrown him into his cupboard.

But what hurt him the most was the question as to why Snape hadn't tried to find him and he tried not to be too disappointing at that thought, but it really hurt the most. He wished that Snape were here helping him like he had done before.

But then – well, Dumbledore had told him that Snape had arranged this, him being brought back to the Dursleys, as he had seen that he wasn't worth the teacher's care. So – no, Snape wouldn't come to help him anymore and Snape wouldn't come to get him away from here again. He wasn't Snape's son anymore, Snape had disowned him.

He really couldn't blame the man, really, who would want a whinny teenage freak that couldn't even handle a beating or a simple test? Who would want a whinny teenage freak that couldn't even eat alone, dress himself alone or go to the toilet alone? Who would want a teenage freak who wasn't able to care for himself alone and who needed reassurance all the time because he was so damn scared? No one! No one ever would want that, someone like him!

But it hurt nevertheless, that Snape had disowned him and had arranged his being brought back.

For once in his life there had been someone who had cared.

Squashing those thoughts down, knowing that he wouldn't have a chance of surviving if he kept such ridiculous thoughts, he tried to relax as good as possible, closing his eyes and trying to not panic, to breathe as calmly as Snape had told he should, trying to imagine Snape's calming voice and trying to not fall into a spiral of despair.

He didn't hear the front door being opened, he didn't hear the voices outside of his cupboard that argued for only a moment before the Dursleys were obliviated and their memories altered and he didn't hear the door to his cupboard being opened, didn't see the small beam of light creeping into his small space, nor did he notice Nolan Lucius and Alastor Moody who carefully got him out of his cupboard, out of the house and back to the magical hospital by an emergency portkey the healer carried with him all the time.

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The fire flaring green made Severus and Hotaru both looking up and Severus quickly got off the cot he was sitting at so that Nolan could lay Harry down onto the bed immediately, rushing over to the fire, but then he stopped mid-step at seeing who left the fireplace, as it was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"You!" He growled darkly, taking a step towards the blasted man and he barely was able to restrain himself from hitting his fist into that man's face. He barely would resort to such violence, he preferred a well placed and nasty hex normally, but right now he knew that it would feel very good to break that man's nose with his fist. "You have no right being here, Dumbledore!"

"You are still angry with me, Severus." Dumbledore said, actually _smiling_ at him!

"That is Snape to you, Dumbledore!" Severus growled, not willing to allow that man to use his given name any longer.

"But Severus, surely you won't go so far." Dumbledore had the nerve to shake his head. "We're colleagues after all."

"Actually – no, _headmaster_!" He growled, hoping that Nolan and Moody wouldn't come back with Harry right now while the headmaster was here, knowing that he would have to get rid of that man as soon as possible. "I have already told you that you need to search for another Potions Master if you interfered with my son and you have, not regarding my words."

"Are you really willing to give up your work at Hogwarts only because I brought Potter back to his relatives where he belonges to, Severus?"

"They already once nearly have killed that child and you just sent him back to those _monsters_!" Severus growled darkly, clenching his hands into tight fists. Why had that blasted man come back anyway? Had he intended making sure that they wouldn't do anything to get the boy? If this was the case, then surely it was a good thing that he still was here while Moody already was gone.

"There are some who might call _you_ a monster, Severus." Dumbledore watched him coldly.

"Yes, I suppose there are." Snape smirked. "And you are among them, I suppose."

There was a dangerous pause, but then. "Very well, Severus, I see that you need time to accept this."

"I won't need time, Dumbledore, as there is nothing left I have to tell you, ever." Snape growled, turning and leaving the room, knowing that the headmaster then would go as well, would floo back to wherever he had come from. He only out of the corner of his eyes noticed Hotaru following him, the other Master most likely knowing his intention and he was glad for that.

Storming into Nolan's office he took a calming draught from the cabinet that stood in one corner and after opening the vial and downing it in one go without even grimacing he locked the cabinet again, sitting down into the armchair behind the desk where he took a deep breath before he ran his hand over his face.

"Albus Dumbledore." Hotaru said and for a moment Severus, who had closed his eyes to try and relax a bit, opened them quickly, thinking that Hotaru had addressed that blasted man that had come back. "This man is known all over the world as a warrior for the light, as a good man with a good heart and a helping hand." Hotaru continued and the Potions Master sighed out with relief at not finding the blasted headmaster there but only the old and strange wizard reflecting about that man. "And yet – I find him being a man that abused his powers, that helped in abusing an innocent child and that is an uncaring and cold criminal, sacrificing the children that were entrusted to his hands to a war that is not theirs to fight."

"Indeed." Was all Severus said, sighing sadly. "And I have once trusted him."

After that sentence there was a pause during which both wizards followed their own thoughts until Severus heard Hotaru's voice again.

"The fire in your son's room has flared." The ancient wizard said. "You stay here, I will go and have a look if Dumbledore left or the auror and the healer are back with your son."

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Well, Healer Nolan and Auror Moody were not back yet with the child, and Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry was gone. Nevertheless he cast a few spells over the room, just to make sure that the old wizard had not hidden somewhere beneath a privacy or notice-me-not charm. And he knew that there were enough such charms to begin with, he hadn't survived nearly two hundred years without knowing his field after all.

But there was no Albus Dumbledore hiding in a corner and under a charm.

The name Harry Potter too was well known all over the world, The-Boy-Who-Lived, as some called him, The-Chosen-One, as others called him, but finding him abused and bit by bit dying from the breaking core, finding him in such a bad condition – it had been just as unexpected and startling as had been finding the leader of the light being a heartless criminal and he knew that this child had to be protected.

Another matter however had been Severus Snape.

He didn't know many names of the Death Eaters, the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but as a close friend to Abraxas Malfoy he at least knew that Lucius Malfoy was one, while Nolan Malfoy was a healer that worked for the light and – yes, of course the name Severus Snape had been mentioned by Abraxas at one point or another and he had been curious, very curious indeed. And yet – the man was nothing he had thought possible.

He knew exactly how the younger wizard felt, and so he of course neither was surprised nor upset upon turning and finding Master Snape standing in the doorway to his son's room, his wand drawn and a worried expression on his face.

"I have cast a few discovering charms already, as well as a few securing spells." He said, stowing away his wand. Of course the younger wizard did not take his wand away immediately but cast a few spells and charms of his own, and he actually recognized a few he had cast just a moment ago, but he didn't mind. If this child was to be kept safe from a man like Albus Dumbledore, then it surely was a good thing if his guardian was a man like Severus Snape.

He had watched that man during the few hours since he had come here, and as strange as this man seemed to be, he could feel that his magic was strong, very strong, and smiling proudly he knew that this man would be able rivalling Albus Dumbledore.

The fire flaring again had both wizards turning, their wands in their hands and for a moment Severus feared it would be Albus who came back, finding him back in Harry's room. That man immediately would know why he was back in the room, that he was waiting for Harry being brought back.

But it wasn't Albus Dumbledore. It was Nolan, holding Harry and for a moment he barely was able to resist the urge to take his son from the healer's arms before he took a step back from the bed so Nolan could lay the child onto the bed. He however rushed over to them immediately, just the moment Moody as well stepped out of the fire. He didn't mind Moody any attention though.

"Any new injuries?" He curtly asked while he already started undressing the boy, noticing Nolan reapplying the magical wires that were leading to the medical divices over there on the wall.

"Nothing too serious this time." Nolan quietly answered but he could hear that he was upset. "Nothing we can't heal. The lack of medication however worries me more, as does his state of mind. Something happened, Severus."

"What exactly do you imply?" Severus asked, halting in his movements and looking over at the healer sharply.

"I can't tell you." Nolan answered. "I don't know. I simply can't feel his presence."

Gritting his teeth Severus continued undressing the thin body, knowing that physical healing right now was more important than anything else if the boy was to survive this new ordeal and he only could imagine what exactly might have happened at that blasted house. He didn't even notice Moody watching him with narrowed eyes, nor the fire flaring again and Kingsley, Dawlish and Savage coming through the floo, the four Aurors talking quietly.

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"Dawlish and Savage, I need you here to guard Potter from being taken away again." Moody said to the two Aurors. "You will have to keep hidden beneath a strong notice-me-not. You will have to work overtime, but you will have to stay here for a 12-hour shifts. I do not have enough people whom I can trust with this, because those who are not in the order are true to the Minister and the Minister listens to Dumbledore."

Both Aurors nodded their heads without even arguing and immediately Dawlish went over to the corner beside the window, casting a strong notice-me-not over himself and then sat down into the chair that stood there while Savage left the hospital room to take a rest and sleep until he would overtake in twelve hours.

"Kingsley, I have gathered all information I have against Dumbledore." Moody then continued. "We can charge him with child abduction, endangering a child's life because of taking said child from hospital, taking said child from the medical devices even and refusing further medical care. We can charge him with endangering a child's life because of placing said child into an abusive household knowingly, helping in abusing an innocent child even and we can accuse him of abusing his powers as headmaster of a magical school, as he has used Harry – Snape – to train him for a war while still being a child, sacrificing the children that were entrusted to his hands to a war that is not theirs to fight. I think that will be enough to not only keep the boy safe from his clutches, but to get him off his post as headmaster as well. I however need your support in this. I need you to back me up."

"Of course I will, Moody." Kingsley said in his deep and calm voice. "How long do you think these exceptional circumstances will last?"

"Dunno." Moody growled. "Hopefully not longer than a week. I also need information on other children. I need to speak with Augusta Longbottom. The Longbottom boy has been nominated as the Boy-Who-Lived as well and I want to know if Dumbledore has done anything to influence either she or the boy himself."

"You better speak with some of the Slytherin children as well, Moody, as little as you may like them." Snape growled over. "You do know that many of them have Death Eater parents and I am sure that you can imagine abuse in their home as well. Dumbledore knows and always has ignored it as it had been Slytherins and not Gryffindors. However, I do ask you doing this in a way so their parents won't learn of the content of your questions as surely even you will know their home life would only worsen if those Death Eaters were suddenly accused of child abuse."

"I'll be subtle." Moody growled back at the man, once again narrowing his eyes.

Had he really been so stupid? Snape, the new Not-Death-Eater, of course tried to protect his snakes – like every head of house does. McGonagall protected her lions, Sprout protected her badgers and Flitwick protected his ravens after all. It was their job. Therefore they were heads of houses. So – Snape did nothing that any other teacher wouldn't do as well.

And yet – the blasted man admitted that some of those Slytherins had Death Eater parents and he had not thought that he – even if just secretly – fought against them to protect their own children from them. Once again this was a side on Snape he had not known. What else did he not know about that man?

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Harry didn't know where the hell he was. First he had been in the dark – again.

He hated the dark, he _feared_ the dark. Bad things happened in the dark, really bad things, but now he wasn't in the dark anymore.

Darkness was bad. Because the bad things only happened in the dark.

But he didn't like this place that was so white that he felt blind either. It was not much better then the dark, that place here, because he couldn't see much more than he could see in the dark. But then, where was here?

With his mind already occupied with thoughts of potions and elixirs for the child he had taken into his care Severus Snape managed to finish off the coffee Nolan had brought him earlier before he heard a rustle of bed cloths that alerted him to Harry waking up and he looked over at the bed just in time to see Harry's half lidded eyes wandering around the room as he tried figuring out where exactly he was.

"Harry?" He said, leaning closer to the child but there were no sounds of acknowledgement coming from the boy, just the mute looking through the room. "Can you hear me, Harry?" Severus tried again, to no avail and he finally got up and reached for his son's shoulder.

The child however immediately shot up in his bed and flung his fists wildly around him, accidentally hitting the Potions Master square in the shoulder and Snape for a moment hissed in pain, pulling his hand back. A moment later he could see the boy turning pale and scooting away from him, onto the other side of the bed while the green eyes now were not half lidded anymore but stared widely at his professor with terror clearly visible in them the moment he had realized what he had done.

"Calm down, child." He quietly said, ignoring the slight pain in his shoulder, knowing that until tomorrow a bruise would have formed. "I do know that you have not intended hurting me and I am glad to know that you are still ready to fight for yourself. No harm has been done, Harry, calm down, child. You are safe. You are back in your room at St. Mungos, you are back with me and you are safe. Moody has placed Aurors here to keep you safe and from being taken again."

He could see the boy starting to relax, the pale face going more tired and exhausted the more it relaxed, but the wrinkles of pain around the child's eyes, the small nose and around the boy's mouth worried him. They had healed the new injuries that – like Nolan had said – luckily had been nothing serious and which they had managed to heal easily. They also had given him a pain potion already, but those lines in the boy's face definitely were caused by pain.

"You are safe, child." He repeated. "No one will be able taking you away again."

"You … you dis- … disowned me." Harry whispered accusingly, his eyes drifting through the room unseeingly, as if his mind were far away.

"I did no such thing, child." He said, frowning. "Who told you I had?" He then asked, already knowing the answer.

"Prof'ssr Dumbledore." The boy whispered and Snape nearly seethed in anger, knowing what Dumbledore had tried while hoping that the blasted man had not succeeded. He knew that Harry needed at least one person he could trust if he were to survive, he knew that the child needed not only the safety of trusting at least one person, but the knowledge that he belonged, that he had a family, that he had someone who cared, if he were to survive.

"Listen to me, Harry." He said, seriously, after he had taken a deep breath. "The headmaster has done a few things lately that had been a crime and this only will add to his crimes. He lied to you. He did want you believing that I had disowned you to destroy your trust in me." He explained while he slowly reached out again, knowing that he had to be absolutely honest with the boy now, never mind how much the truth might hurt the boy.

He knew that Harry always had trusted in the old man, that he had seen something like a grandfatherly figure in the old headmaster, and so he also knew that his words surely would be very hard on the child. But he also knew that he would do no good if he kept the truth from the child now. Harry had to hear this so that he could understand.

"I know that this will be hard on you, but you have to know the truth, child." He quietly said while he gently took the boy by his upper arms and pulled him closer, bit by bit. "You are The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Chosen-One, The-Golden-Boy. I told you once that you bear many titles, Harry, while at the same time beneath them – you are but a child. The headmaster always failed to notice this. He never has seen Harry, the child, but a weapon he could use in a war. We are about to accuse the headmaster in front of the Wizengamot so that he cannot harm innocent children anymore, but I need you to trust me, son. I have not disowned you."

Pulling the boy into his arms completely he sighed with relief. Harry had not fought him again but right now was leaning his side against his chest tiredly. So – did this mean that the damage Dumbledore had intended wasn't as bad as it could have been? So – did this mean that the boy believed him, that the boy still trusted him?

"I have not disowned you, Harry." He softly repeated. "And I never will. You are still my son, you are still Harry Snape, and you will remain just that – never mind if you like it or not. Here child, take this for the pain." He then added when the child had relaxed in his arms as good as possible but the lines in his pale face still remained. "I am not sure it will work any better than the last one, but it is worth a try at least."

Harry let him hold the bottle to his mouth and tilt the potion in, and again he was startled at how unresponsive the child was, while the only thing he could do was sitting there and waiting for the lines of pain in the pale face to ease out. Harry's eyes were open, but that didn't mean the child was seeing anything through them and the Potions Master was sure that – if he waved his hand in front of the child's face, the boy wouldn't blink, never mind actually respond with words.

And nevertheless he continued speaking to the boy, reassuring him that no, he had not disowned him and that yes, he still was his son. Telling him that he understood how unnerving it must be, being the son of the dungeons bat, of their hated Potions Master, of the git that tormented them during his lessons, but that he couldn't change that unpleasant side effect as he had adopted him by blood and as he wasn't able to undo this.

Twenty minutes later however, the boy was still wide awake and as it seemed in pain, and so Snape decided to stay with him, maybe just untill the boy fell asleep – that at least it was what he told himself while at the same time he knew that he wouldn't leave the boy's side tonight and so the Professor kept sitting there and waiting for the lines of pain on the pale face of his son to ease out and for sleep to take hold at his son.

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**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Things set in motion and the search for a lost boy … _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	26. enter my mind

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_And nevertheless he continued speaking to the boy, reassuring him that no, he had not disowned him and that yes, he still was his son._ _Telling him that he understood how unnerving it must be, being the son of the dungeons bat, of their hated Potions Master, of the git that tormented them during his lessons, but that he couldn't change that unpleasant side effect as he had adopted him by blood and as he wasn't able to undo this._

_Twenty minutes later however, the boy was still wide awake and as it seemed in pain, and so Snape decided to stay with him, maybe just until the boy fell asleep – that at least it was what he told himself while at the same time he knew that he wouldn't leave the boy's side tonight and so the Professor kept sitting there and waiting for the lines of pain on the pale face of his son to ease out and for sleep to take hold of his son._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-six **

**Enter my mind**

**Friday**

Harry had been unresponsive since he had been brought back from the Dursleys' household by Nolan and Moody yesterday afternoon, except for the short moment after he had woken the first time, had – sort of accused him, Severus, of disowning him so quickly after he had adopted him.

The boy had woken a few times during the night, nearly every hour actually, but he never had been really responsive ever again. He had shifted uncomfortably in his bed, clearly had been in pain or scared, most likely even both, but he never had been really responsive, never had given away any answers or even acknowledged his presence. For the most parts he just had lain there, staring ahead until he had drifted off to sleep again at one point or another – until he had woken again.

And now it was nearly evening once more and it definitely was Harry's longest 'fit' yet. The boy had been staring unseeingly at the ceiling for nearly six hours now and the Potions Master simply wasn't able to watch any longer without taking actions, Nolan's words from the day before still clearly on his mind, "I simply can't feel his presence anymore", and taking a deep breath he swiftly stood and gently propped the boy on the bed up before sitting himself behind the small figure.

He had hoped that he would get a response from the boy when he touched him, he even would have been glad being hit by the boy yet again if he just had showed any response, but he hadn't and gently he wrapped his arms around the frail body, pulled the child close until he lay leaning with his back against his chest. He just as gently lifted his hand and placed it onto the damp forehead, knowing that it was pale and for a moment he thought that he had felt a slight twitch of the eyebrows his fingers touched, thought that he could feel a creasing of the boy's eyebrows, but upon concentrating onto the face beneath his hand – no, there was nothing, only his imagination playing tricks on him.

Sighing he closed his own eyes and then concentrated, reaching out with his own well trained mind until he could feel the boy's awareness, like he had done back at Prince Manor, the night after he had taken the boy from his relatives, using a mild form of legillimence to find the child's thought patterns. Just like back then he didn't search for memories but for the child's conscious presence, but this time he didn't find the boy's mind in scrambles even, this time he didn't find the same mess he had found back then, a mess of feelings, this time he found – he knew, he forever would remember what was happening right now when he entered Harry's mind that once again wasn't practically existent anymore. And once again he wondered how the boy had been able to function at all.

He had known that what he would see would be startling, but he never would have expected the shape of mind he just now had entered.

It was a desert. That was the best word he could use to describe it, a wasteland, grey sand, dried to a point where it had become as harsh as stone, cracked with the lack of hydration.

It wasn't the first time that he entered a mind that was shaped like a landscape, many people did chose a landscape for clearing their minds, he himself did so, but never before had he seen a mind so – deserted, so desolate and barren, so forsaken. A wood with a clearing, or mountains with snow covered peaks, a lake with an island or a river with a meadow close, those were the forms of landscapes a mind normally would be formed into, but not such a – deserted and abandoned wasteland.

So, that was his son's mind.

With a shudder he looked around.

There were no plants, nothing that grew and he even doubted that there would grow _anything_ in this wasteland. There was no water here, no lake, no river, not even a small wallow. Nothing, absolutely nothing aside from dry earth that had become cracked, and upon looking up at the sky he knew that there wouldn't be rain anytime soon.

There were no clouds in the sky, and yet it was grey, the sky, the horizon as far as his eyes reached, grey in grey, and it wasn't warm like one would expect when wandering a dried desert such as this here. In the contrary - it was cold even and he shivered in the cold air that was as dry as if he _would_ stand in a hot desert.

For a moment he thought that he had entered at night, that surely it would become warmer and more friendly in a few hours, but a moment later he realized that it indeed _was_ daytime, because it wasn't really dark and he could see the glimpse of the sun standing high above in the sky.

She wasn't really present, and he immediately knew that. It was just a small glimpse, a small reminder that there might be something like a sun, like a mirror showing a faint memory and he knew that this faint glimpse he could make out in the grey, this slight difference in the colour – it was the memory of happier times, it was the memory of the boy's … for a moment he gasped as he realized that this fading sun, it was the memory of Lily, of Harry's mother, and most likely the only comforting memory that was there at all, the only thing that had kept the child upright, that had kept him hoping, that had kept him running – that maybe even had kept him sane. And even this small glimpse, this small comfort – it was vanishing, bit by bit, slowly but unyielding it was fading and he could feel that it would happen soon, the sun being gone, being covered and swallowed by the grey around.

But aside from that – there was nothing. As much as this landscape lacked any life, plants, animals, sounds even, colours – as much it lacked emotions or the presence of the owner of this mind – Harry. He knew that the boy should be there, it was his mind after all and the person the mind belonged to always was present – but there was no sign of Harry here. There however was nothing where the boy could have hidden himself away either because as far as his eyes could see – there only was the deserted landscape.

But then – well, no. That was not precisely true, he noticed upon squinting his eyes into the direction of the south – or at least what he thought would be south – where he could make out a small stony area far in the distance.

Slowly he started walking, hoping he would find a glimpse of the boy there, while he allowed his own mind to wander.

As far as he could tell – the boy's mind was destroyed. No mind, _absolutely no mind_, should look like this. There was no life here, only death. And from what he saw, he knew that this landscape had not formed during Harry's last visit at his relatives' household, not even during this ongoing summer holidays. He knew that this waste desert had been formed long ago, years ago, most likely had started forming shortly after he had come to the Dursleys.

Frowning he got down onto one knee and reached out with one hand to touch the ground, trying to break a piece of the sandy stone free, but he didn't manage and his frown deepened. He knew, sand becoming stone as hard as this – it took years. His frown still on his face he again looked up into the grey sky and again he could see glimpses of the sun, her beams not really breaking through the grey that covered her. He only knew that she was there because of the change in colour patterns on the sky, the grey being slightly brighter and not as impenetrable as it was around that area.

He also once again noticed that the grey were no clouds. It was darker at one or another point of the sky like clouds would be, yes, and it even was moving, some of the grey hanging low, so low he thought he surely would be able to touch it if he stretched out his hand while other parts of the grey were far above his head. And yet – he somehow knew that this grey mass were no clouds.

Of course this grey mass were no clouds, he snorted to himself while he got up and continued walking into the direction of south, to the stony formation he hoped he would find Harry at. Like the sun that was barely there, barely present, that wasn't even warming the place anymore, that was the child's memory of his mother – those grey mass was the memories, the bad memories, that slowly but surely drowned the one of his mother. And he knew, the moment they had succeeded, the moment the memory of Lily was covered with the bad memories completely, the moment the sun was drowned by this grey mass – that moment they had lost all.

He didn't know how long he had been walking by now. Time seemed to run differently here, strangely, and he couldn't tell if it were ten minutes only or ten hours already since he had entered his son's mind. It was an occurrence he never before had experienced, he normally always was able to tell the time when being in someone else's mind, and he realized that the boy wasn't able to tell the time _himself_. Had it always been like this? Had Harry always had trouble telling the time? Or was it just now, while he was so unresponsive? His mind in thousands of pieces that had broken off the child throughout the years? Only Merlin knowing how many of those pieces had gone lost forever throughout the years?

The stony area ahead of him had come closer and he could make out strong black boulders that covered a few yards to either side – but still no sign of Harry, of _any_ life, and again he shivered - not only because of the cool air, but because of the creepy landscape, because of the lack of any life. How scared the boy must feel in his own mind, he wondered. How scared and alone must he feel? How isolated and how abandoned?

He himself was a man that loved his solitariness, that loved being alone, who was independent – but even _he_ had other people roaming his mind, had life in his mind, animals, plants, friends! What must have happened so that the boy had left all living beings behind, so that he had _discarded_ all life from his mind?

He adjusted his direction slightly to the right, and again he noticed that – there was no sense of direction at all present in Harry's mind, in this wasted desert, because he didn't _feel_ as if he had adjusted his direction at all. He knew that he had altered the direction he had been walking in, but he still saw the stony area slightly to his left instead of directly in front of him like it should be now. He wasn't even sure if it really was to his left and he actually had to lift his hands slightly to look down at them, wondering which hand _was_ his left and which hand was his right. He'd never before had any troubles with telling his right from his left. But he had now, and he frowned.

So – if he interpreted this correctly, was it possible that _Harry_ had trouble with some of his senses? Telling the time? And telling his right from his left? Telling directions?

It was a strange thing, reading a mind like this. He was a Master Legillimence and he was used to reading a mind like he would read a book, layer for layer, but reading _this_ mind, _Harry's_ mind, it was as if he had to learn legillimence all over again.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Once again he wasn't able to tell how long it had taken him to reach the stony area at all, but he had managed finally and considering that he was tired now, he guessed that it at least must have taken him more than three or four hours – even if it felt as if only ten or fifteen minutes had passed.

The boulders were indeed black, deep black, and they looked as harsh as did look the wasteland itself, dark, harsh and cold, rough, and upon stretching out his fingers, he could feel that they felt like they looked like.

They were high enough so that he could not see what lay beyond them and so he walked alongside them. Again he couldn't say if he walked to the east or to the west. He knew that it wasn't to the south as he definitely had changed direction and so he knew that it couldn't be north either, but for the life of him, he wasn't sure what direction it was he was walking in now. He knew that he had turned to his right – at least that was what he thought – and so, _theoretically_, it should be west – but, he wasn't sure.

From what he had seen in the distance he had thought that he would have to walk for at least an hour until he reached the edges of the boulder, but only a few minutes had past – and this time he was sure of that – until he had reached a small bypass where he would be able to enter.

For a moment he hesitated, not sure – fearing even – what he would find within the small mount of black boulders, but then he took a deep breath and walked inside, the rock faces reaching high above him, higher than they had looked like earlier and again he frowned. They had looked as if being a yard over his head at the most, but now they towered above him dangerously and frighteningly.

Walking through the bypass he still could not make out any life, but he could feel that it became slightly warmer the moment he stepped from the bypass and into a nearly circular space that was surrounded by those black boulders, friendlier. It was a calm place, he noticed. The ground still cracked and the area still harsh and unforgiving, but it was calm, nearly peaceful and suddenly he knew that he would find Harry there. If there was any living being within this deserted land, then it surely had fled this way.

And really.

Looking around he could see a small form covering between the lower stones that were scattered around the edge of the 'clearing', sitting there like a scared animal, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees, his head however lifted and looking at him with large and frightened eyes. Narrowing his eyes the Potions Master immediately realized that something was wrong however and slowly he approached the lone figure, his breath becoming heavier the closer he came and the more of the small figure he could recognize – until he nearly gasped with shock.

He knew that Harry didn't look his nearly fourteen years, that he rather looked like a first or second year student, but the child that was sitting there between the stones – the boy was no older than two or three years old – a small and thin skeleton that was covered in dust and dirt and looked up at him with scared and hungry eyes.

"Harry?" He quietly asked the moment he had reached the child and bent down on one knee.

Was this the child in his own mind? Why was he so small? Why was he so young? How could this Harry be two or three years old while he in reality was nearly fourteen? And how could he already be so skeletal at such a young age? Had he – in his mind – never grown? Was that the age of Harry's mind? How had he been able to function? To learn? To learn magic, spells, potions? Reading and writing? How had he been able to …

Sighing he knew that none of the questions would be answered right now. Right now there was a small and frightened, a hungry child that was his son and that most likely was in one kind of pain or another just as well.

"May I sit here, Harry?" He asked, calmly, even if he felt anything else than calm. The boy looked at him for a few more moments with large green eyes and then he slowly nodded his head.

"Who you?" Harry then softly asked, the child's voice pleasantly soft even, nearly a whisper, but surely not as loud and as shrill as some children sounded at that age.

"I am – your father." Severus quietly said. For a moment he had considered not revealing this to the toddler in front of him, but then – well, this small child _was_ his son.

"Then I dead?" The boy asked and with a frown Severus noticed that there was no fear upon the realization that if his parents were dead and if he was the boy's father, then he must be dead as well. It was a startling knowledge that the boy didn't fear being dead at all.

"No." He answered. "I am not James Potter. Your real father is dead and no one can bring the dead back, I take it you know this. I am Severus Snape, your adopted father, and so you are not dead. We are currently residing in your mind."

"Why?" The boy asked, his large eyes still watching him with an intensity that he was not used coming from children.

"Because you have gotten lost and I had to find you." Severus again answered. "How old are you?" He then asked.

The boy frowned in concentration while looking at him before he lifted one of his hands, holding it in front of him in a tight little fist. With the fingers of his other hand he started to pull out his thumb, then his forefinger, his middle finger and then his ring finger, only his small finger remaining hidden before he turned his hand to show him.  
"That old." He then said.

"That is four years old." Severus then answered with a frown. "What is this place here?" He then asked. Of course he knew that this place simply was the child's mind, but he wanted to know what this little child had to say about it, what he thought it was.

"Dunno." The boy answered, shrugging his shoulders while looking around. "It safe place."

"Yes, I guess it is, considering the wasteland out there." Severus couldn't help admitting. "Do you live here?"

For a moment the child's eyes went larger than they already had been and he could see the fear changing into something akin to panic, but it was gone soon and then the boy nodded with nearly a smile on his face.

"It safe here." He simply repeated.

So – Harry had fled into his mind at the age of four? Had fled from the abuse his aunt and uncle had bestowed upon him so he could feel safe? At least as safe as one could feel alone in the desert? Had he remained four in his mind because of that? Because he had been isolated form all human contact since? Was he the first human contact to this Harry since? He was sure that the boy had not allowed any other human being in his mind since a long time, the lifeless, abandoned desert out there was proof of that, but how could a human being, how could a child survive on his own, isolated, and living in a desert wasteland for such a long time? For nearly ten years?

It was no wonder that his core had broken, it was no wonder that …

"Where are your aunt and uncle living?" He asked, knowing that it was a dangerous question, and – just like he had feared – the child's body immediately tensed up, went rigid and he could detect the fear rising unlimited. The boy's green eyes for a moment darted towards the south, towards what might lay beyond the high boulders, before he averted his eyes.

"How long are you here?" Severus asked, trying do distract the boy from his fears for a moment.

"Dunno." The boy said. "They not be here long." He said, pointing at the black boulders. "Only few days."

"Before that you have been out there in the desert?" Severus asked, frowning, and the moment he could see the boy nodding, his fear deepening again at that thought, at those memories, his frown deepened and he reached out to touch the black boulders. "What are they anyway?" He quietly asked, more speaking to himself than to the boy, wondering if maybe –

"They safe." The boy whispered. "They dark and harsh, they strict, and they deep. Like you." The boy then looked up at him, shyly and the Potions Master nearly gasped. The child was correct. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Those black stones, they were like he was, dark, harsh and cold. And for the child they meant safety. They were here since a few days only, most likely since he had adopted the boy, and before that – of course this stony area in Harry's mind was him, Snape. Like the sun was the memory of his mother, like the grey sky was all those bad memories – those stones were memories of him, Snape.

For a moment he chuckled. Never before had anyone compared him with a small mountain of black boulders.

"Yes, like me." He answered. "Because they are me, in your mind. Interesting perception." Closely he looked over at the child again, watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Are there other things out there? Some houses or a forest, a river or something like that?" He then asked.

Immediately the boy shook his head like mad, his eyes – which he had thought were already overly large – growing even wider and he could see unhidden fear now.

"Never go there!" The boy chocked out, his eyes again darting to the south for a moment. "Bad places! Bad things happen there! Never, never, ever go there!"

"Not even with me, child?" Severus asked and again the boy shook his head frantically.

"Those rocks are protecting you, do they not?" He asked, trying to reason with the child – that nodded at his words.

"Good." He said. "Those rocks are me. You have produced those rocks in your mind as a substitution for me. Does that make sense to you?"

"What is sub- substut – sub …"

"Substitution." He helped out, of course a four year old would not know what the word meant and he sighed, knowing that he would have to use smaller words. "It is a replacement. In your mind you needed something that would be me as I do play a role in your life now, and as you do not allow any human being in your landscape – you have created those boulders that am I, to protect you here in your mind like I do in reality. Does this make sense to you?"

For a moment the boy nodded before he immediately shook his head. Of course the child would not understand. Most likely he didn't even know that it was only his mind he resided at.

"Never mind, Harry." He said. "Those rocks are here to protect you, but you won't need them anymore, not all the time at least, because I am here now and I will protect you. Will you leave them together with me to show me the other places?"

"'m tired." The boy said, shaking his head.

"Alright, Harry." He answered. "If I allow you to sleep here for a while, will you show me later?"

There only was a hesitant shrug of a set of small and thin shoulders, but it was better than a right out refusal and Severus took it as what it was.

"Come here, child." He said while leaning his back against one of the boulders and slowly he extended his hand towards the child invitingly. To his great surprise the boy really scooted closer to him, even if hesitantly, even if watching him warily, until he leaned with his side against his chest. Carefully he sneaked his arms around the child's small and thin form, pulled him close until his son leaned against his chest, had his eyes closed, and only a few moments later he could hear the boy's breathing evening out.

It took him a few more moments until he himself allowed sleep to claim him.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The landscape south of the black boulders that had created a small mount was as wasted and as dead as it had been to the north, cracked with the lack of hydration and lacking of any life.

He didn't know how long they had slept. He had woken to the child's whimpering once, in complete darkness, and immediately he had known that the little boy had been scared in the darkness, that he always had been scared in the darkness, because there never had been someone to comfort him.

He had pulled the boy closer up his chest and then he had waved his wand and started a fire. Little Harry had looked over immediately, startled, had looked at him, scared, had looked back to the fire, still with large eyes, but the Potions Master had not released the child, had told him in calm words that it was alright and that he should go back to sleep.

And the child had done just that.

And right now they were walking towards the south.

There hadn't been a pathway out of the small black mountain that led to the south like the one to the north he had entered the evening before and they actually had to climb some of the boulders. Of course there wouldn't be an entrance to the south, Severus thought, because that was the direction the dangerous places lay in.

The four year old had left the rocky area only reluctantly, had more than once looked up at him questioningly, pleadingly, had asked him if they really had to go _there_, but he had said yes, had told him that it was important. And so little Harry had gone with him, slowly, keeping their pace slow at the beginning.

But soon he had forgotten his fears in his presence and right now the child was running along the harsh and cracked ground, a small skeletal that was jumping over cracks, that was jumping from section to section while laughing when he missed and his little feet touched one of the cracks.

Severus watched his son while the boy ran ahead, jumping and laughing, acting like any four year old child would instead of an abused and frightened little child. And he _knew_ that the four year old already was abused. He had looked the moment the child had fallen asleep, had lifted the thin and ragged t-shirt and he had found the small and thin body covered in bruises. Not as bad and not as many bruises as the older version of the child, the thirteen year old boy bore, but they were there and he had gritted his teeth in anger, had tightened his lips and had curled his hands into tight fists. He knew that he couldn't do anything here in the child's mind. He couldn't change anything here, it was the child's mind after all, but he would do something one day, he swore to himself. He would meet the Dursleys one day, and they would pay for what they had done to a small and innocent child one day. As would Dumbledore.

And that this child _was_ innocent – it was clear to him when just watching him jumping over the cracks and having fun with nothing but running ahead. A child that did not need a lot of expensive toys, a television or computer games, a child that did not need the attention of a lot of friends and adults around him, but a child that could have fun and be free and happy with a few cracks in a dead and abandoned desert and with simply his father following and watching him.

And for the first time he realized – he could himself indeed call a happy man, having such a child as his son. He never would admit it to anyone, and he never would … yes, he really was a happy man and he forever would remember this particular moment with that child in his son's mind.

He was just about to call the child over to have lunch with him, not even wondering anymore where he had the food from. It was Harry's mind after all, and – apparently – the boy – in his mind – hoped that he would provide him with something to eat, even if he had not asked for anything to eat. It had been the same with breakfast. They had woken and suddenly there had been a basket – _a basket!_ – with food and with a sigh of annoyance at the basket he had told the child to have breakfast.

Harry had been startled at first, but then he had smiled brightly at him, had slowly eaten a toast and a sausage, and from that moment on it had been clear that the child had trusted him completely. Maybe that had been the reason as to why he had allowed him, Snape, to take him to those dangerous places he feared so much. Maybe it had been some sort of test even, he didn't know, but it had worked.

And so he right now was about to call the child over so that he could provide him with lunch when the boy stopped mid-step, frozen to the spot, unwilling to move on and the smile that had brightened the thin and pale face just moments ago was replaced by fear and uncertainty, the boy looking over at him with pleading eyes.

"Come here, Harry." He said while watching the building that could be seen in the distance now, which he hadn't noticed up to now as his thoughts had been occupied with the laughing and playing child, and he once again extended his hand, waving the child over invitingly. The boy immediately obeyed, coming closer and leaning against him, gripping the edges of his robe even as if they would mean safety.

"Let's have us resting here, child." He said, placing the bag to the ground. Well – as it seemed the child had sensed his dislike of the basked and had changed it into a bag – something he was glad for. "I suggest we eat something before we go on walking, shall we?"

"'m not hungry." The child said, his voice trembling with fear, his eyes never leaving the building in the distance.

"I want you eating something nevertheless." He said, sitting onto the ground and pulling the child with him. "You are too skinny to begin with and it is important that you eat."

"You be there?" The child asked, scared, only hesitantly taking the – yet again – toast and sausage he reached him.

"Of course I will." Severus answered, knowing exactly what the boy meant. "I have told you that I would be there and I will. I am your father after all and you will be safe with me. I will not leave your side."

The boy again slowly ate, after having scooted even closer to him as if seeking safety and shelter from what lay ahead of them, but his eyes never left the dark building in the distance.

Severus too watched the building and with a frown he noticed that it was slightly versant to him, even if he couldn't remember where exactly he had seen it. Parts of the building were missing even and in the distance it rather looked like a ruin to him than a real building.

"'m scared." The boy admitted and Severus turned his eyes from the building towards the child, towards his son, who was trembling by now.

"I know." He said, reaching towards the boy and running his hand over the small face. "But I promise you that you will not be alone, I promise you that I will be there all the time. Shall we go now and get this over with?"

There was a long hesitation, the boy looking startled, frightened, and for a moment he was sure that he would shake his head, that he would refuse going on, but then he nodded and allowed him to stand up, to pull him up as well. He however didn't run ahead this time but kept close by his side, sneaking his small hand into his much larger one even and upon looking down he could see the pleading look in those green eyes again.

They walked on slowly, Severus not only allowing Harry to hold his hand but holding the small hand within his own by himself, trying to give as much comfort and reassurance as possible with that touch.

The building came closer and closer and Severus could see that it indeed was not a ruin but a strangely built house, one that lacked all standards of muggle constructions, and he frowned – until he felt the boy that still held his hand had stopped walking. He turned and looked down at the trembling child before he simply bent down and took the child beneath his armpits, lifted him up and sat him onto his hip, carrying him while folding his arms over the trembling body.

For a moment little Harry had been startled, but then he relaxed against the Potions Master and sneaked thin little arms around the man's neck, leaned his head on the man's shoulder and he even stopped trembling – nearly.

"Shall we knock and see if there is anyone at home?" He asked, knowing how much the child must fear this and he tightened the grip he had on the boy who only nodded at him, turning his head so he could hide his face in the folds of his robes. And so he lifted one hand and knocked at the door.

No one opened.

Slowly he drew his wand, ignoring the startled look the child in his arms gave him, and with a simple alohomora he opened the door, entered with his son in his arms, his wand still held at the ready. The house inside was nothing compared to the outside, he immediately noticed. From the outside it had looked like a _strange_ but simple small house, with a tower, alright, and an annexe of some sort, but a simple small house nevertheless. But now, inside, there was a wide corridor that was made of stone. A wide flight of stairs led downstairs and with a frown he followed down those steps, his wand pointing through the area in front of him.

The moment they reached the bottom the boy was trembling in his arms and he wondered what had him frightened so much. He somehow knew that this was not the Dursleys' house. This was … if he was not completely mistaken, then this was Hogwarts, at least parts of it. But he knew for sure that Harry had felt at home at Hogwarts. So, why was he so scared of this place now?

He walked along the corridor that led straight ahead without any doors to the right or left and only when he reached the end of the corridor and the wooden door that led inside – he stopped upon the small whimper the child in his arms gave away.

"Hush, child." He softly said, keeping his well trained voice as gently and calming as possible. "You are not alone and there is nothing to fear behind that door which I won't be able to handle. You will be quite safe with me, Harry. Trust me."

But what _was_ behind that door so that the child that didn't fear living in a dead and deserted wasteland instead? Could it be the door to the hidden trapdoor that blasted three headed dog had once guarded? Or could that door lead to the chamber of secrets? He knew for sure that both must have been very frightening experiences for the boy, for any child.

Taking a deep breath himself he waved his wand and the door opened.

He took a step inside the room, his wand still at the ready, for once since he had met the four year old child not concentrating onto the child that by now was shaking in his arms again, but onto the room itself – and noticed that …

It was his potions classroom.

Sighing he sat down onto one of the tables and run his hand up and down his son's small and bony back, his larger hand easily covering the child's back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

Had he really frightened the boy that much here in this classroom? Had he really hurt the boy that much here in this classroom?

Stupid question – of course he had. This memory was proof enough. But why was it so bad, he wondered. Harry the teenager never had shown such fear in his classroom, in the contrary. The boy always had seemed defiant and cold, ignoring him at the best and … well, the boy simply had displayed a mask as had his Slytherins, he knew this already.

And if he thought back, then there were enough moments in which the boy had been nervous, tense, enough moments during which the boy's hands that held the knife had been shaking, enough moments in which the entire boy had been trembling. So yes – there _had_ been signs of fear he had displayed in this classroom. He just never had seen them as fear but had misread them for anger and rage towards him, Snape.

"Oh, child." He sighed. "This is a simple potions classroom and nothing can happen in here. What an irony that it is _I – of all people –_ who is facing this particular fear of you together with you, your fear of me. Yes, child, it is not this room in particular you are fearing, but your old and idiotic Potions Teacher."

The child in his lap still refused to look up and face the classroom and gently he took the child and turned him until he had a struggling four year old leaning with his back against his chest who gave a small whimper of fear away. A sudden idea stroke him and he went over to the cupboard where he kept some of his potions ingredients, his arm slung over the child's stomach while the child itself hang on his arm, facing the room.

"You know what this is, child?" He asked while taking a vial with oil from one of the boards. Of course he had noticed the boy tensing up in his grip the moment he had neared the cupboard, but he had ignored it for now.

"Harry?" He asked upon getting no answer and he looked down, crooking his head slightly so he could look into the boy's face. "Come no, child. Open your eyes. I would like to know if you recognize what I have here."

Well, the boy obeyed and opened his eyes finally, looking at the vial.

"You may open it and smell it, feel the consistence, even put a drop on your finger and taste it." He said, standing the boy onto one of the tables so that he had both hands free and then he opened the vial, reached it to his son.

The boy hesitantly took it, looking at him unsurely and only when he gave a curt nod of consent he smelled at the vial. He again looked over at him hesitantly and again he gave a curt nod, before the child placed his finger onto the opening of the vial and then dipped it, slowly, awkwardly even, as if he were particularly careful to not drop it. He narrowed his eyes while he watched the boy trying to find out what exactly it was, the small face still paler than it had been all day long before they had reached this place, the small hands shaking and the small body tense and prepared for anything that might happen. He also noticed that the boy had not spoken anything since they had come here and he remembered the child tensing up when coming closer to the cupboard.

"Almond oil." The child whispered, so softly he wasn't even sure if he really had said it or if he only had imagined it.

"That is correct, Harry." He said. "That was very well done. Now – we will need a cauldron. Look, this small one here will do. We also will need a stirring rod and a few other things like potash. We will cook the basis oil with the potash and then we will make soap."

"You can?" The boy now asked, blinking at him with large eyes.

"Yes, I can." He confirmed. "And you can do this too."

"I can?" The boy asked, his eyes growing even larger. Well, at least he was distracted from his fears.

"Of course you can." He again confirmed.

"You help?" Little Harry suddenly asked, frightened, and he knew the reason to that question. He knew from the teenage Harry that he had been forced to cook the meals for the Dursleys, that he had been punished for making mistakes and that – suddenly he understood. He, Snape, he too had punished the boy for mistakes during potions, and he had punished him unfairly, not only reprimanding him like he normally did with most other students, but taking points and giving him detention as well. Combined with his memories of cooking for the Dursleys – the child of course had been scared in his class – and yet, too proud to admit it, what had led to his defiant and often arrogant appearance. But it only had been fear. The pieces to the puzzle all fit suddenly.

"Of course I will help." He said. "We will do this together, shall we?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

A few hours later they had a bar of soap that smelled of lavender, tangerine and coriander, and the child even had started laughing again at one point or another, even if hesitantly only, and even if looking over at him upon his first laugh he had given away, startled and frightened, until he had nodded at him reassuringly, telling him that it was alright to laugh.

"Well, child." He said. "We have soap now, shall we prepare a bath for you now?"

Alright – considering the startled and frightened headshake – it had not been his best idea. And yet …

"Hurt." The child whimpered out, again trembling. "Bath hurt."

"Yes, I can imagine that any bath your aunt ever might have prepared for you, had hurt." He sighed. "Will you however trust me that a bath I will prepare for you won't hurt you?"

There again was a moment of hesitation, like so often with this boy, but then his son amazed him once again, the child nodding, slowly, barely visibly.

"Very well." He said, taking the largest cauldron he had in his collection and filling it with warm water. Then he took the child that was sitting at the workbench and sat him onto his hip again, before taking the soap as well. For a moment he frowned, wondering how it was that he was handling the child so naturally while the toddler at the same time fit into his arms, sneaking his little arms around his neck as if he never before in his life had done anything else.

"Would you like reaching with your hand into the water first to feel the temperature?" He asked, holding the boy so that he easily could dip his hand into the water and the child did, with the tip of his fingers first before slowly he reached his entire hand into the water. A moment later a small smile spread over the child's pale face and without another word the Potions Master simply started undressing the boy that once again tensed in his arms. He ignored it again, like he had ignored the child tensing before and only stowed it away for later notice. He also ignored the bruises that covered the small and thin body, knowing that right now was not the time to mention them, knowing that right now the child was already frightened enough, and he gently lowered the child into the large cauldron, the boy fitting easily into the – rather _strange_ tub.

Well, he'd definitely never before had a _child_ in one of his cauldrons, he had to admit that and he knew – if Minerva learned of this, then the rumours of him, Snape, turning little children into potions ingredients surely would start anew.

Again the boy had tensed up upon being lowered into the water, even if he had held his hand into the water before, knowing that it would not hurt him, but a few moments later – when he was covered with soap from head to toe – the dungeon classroom again was filled with laugher, the Potions Master nearly smiling at the child's happiness and again he couldn't help thinking – yes, he indeed was a happy man, having a child that was blissful about such a simple thing like a bath and soap he had created himself.

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"It is late, child." Severus said when he had the boy wrapped in a large towel, his body now nearly free from bruises as he had added a healing potion to the water he had the boy bathed in. Of course he knew that they were only in the child's mind, that neither his nor Harry's body were real, but at the same time he knew that it was important, that the child would feel the difference nevertheless, that Harry, the teenage Harry, would feel the difference, would feel the simple comfort he provided. "At least I think that it is late." He then added, still not used to the lack of sense in time. "Shall we stay for the night and sleep here? Would you feel safe here while I am with you?"

The boy at once eagerly nodded, still smiling, and he took the lunch from the bag he had brought – again, toast and sausages. Did the boy know nothing else than toast and sausages? But well – most likely he might know more, but he had tasted it this morning and upon apparently liking it – it seemed his favourite now.

Half an hour later he had a mat laying on the floor, and he had settled down, little Harry again laying in his arms, giggling at a story he had told and once more he noticed that the child was not completely broken yet, that he still was carefree sometimes, that he still was able to laugh, contraire to his older counterpart, the teenage Harry – while at the same time he knew that this child _was_ the teenage Harry, the thirteen year old Harry. Did this mean that Harry, his son, the thirteen year old teenager in whose mind he still was residing, was yet not completely broken? That he still would be able to laugh? Would he ever hear that boy, the older version of Harry, laughing?

He only could hope.

The child settling down beside him, half _atop_ of him, and yawning tiredly, made him shaking his head. Of course the child was tired. The boy practically _lived_ in the desert out there since only Merlin knew how long and he had been walking a large distance today, had gone with him to a place he had feared. He had made soap with him and he'd had a bath, all things he had been afraid of at first.

Not to mention the cupboard.

The cupboard! Upon his suggestion that they should settle for sleep, he had watched the boy approaching the cupboard, had watched the child starting to climb into the small space, tears visible in his eyes and his expression scared, and startled he had asked the child what exactly he was doing.

"That where freaks like me sleep." The boy had said, whispered, his voice nearly chocking.

"You are not a freak, Harry." He had said. "Come out of there. You won't sleep in a cupboard ever again. I will conjure a mat for the two of us, or would you prefer a mat on your own?"

The boy quickly had shaken his head, had crept out of the cupboard awkwardly and he had asked him if he had not had a room at the Dursleys. The child had not even _understood_ what he had wanted to know of him and he remembered a comment he had made towards Minerva when he had met her at St. Mungos only days ago.

**Flashback**

_"I already have adopted Harry Potter and I even have given him my name. Do you not think that in this case it would not be necessary to consider his future home as he already has a room at Prince Manor?"_

_"Potter already has a room at your home?" The deputy headmistress gasped in shock, blinking at him stupidly at this information._

_"Did you think I kept him in a cupboard since I have taken him from his relatives and before I decided to bring him here?" Snape asked with a sneer on his face. "That might have been the Dursleys' style, not mine. Of course he has a room at Prince Manor."_

**End flashback**

Back then he had not known how close he had been to the truth, that the Dursleys _indeed_ had kept the child in a cupboard for only Merlin knew how long. Back then it only had been a comment that had came to his mind at the blasted woman's startled face, a joke, nothing else. But he had not known that the Dursleys really had done this.

Harry, at the same time, felt much more at ease now that the strange man that had said he was his father was going to stay with him, that he even held him while falling asleep, that he had given him food and that he was here to protect him, to take away his fears like he had taken away his fears of this place, and so he allowed himself to fall into a much needed and easy sleep.

Because never before there had been someone who had held him. Never before there had been someone who had entered his desert, and never before there had been someone who had cared so much for him like this man. Never before …

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**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Another house in the desert, a river and a memory _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	27. a river in the desert

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ...

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_Harry, at the same time, felt much more at ease now that the strange man that had said he was his father was going to stay with him, that he even held him while falling asleep, that he had given him food and that he was here to protect him, to take away his fears like he had taken away his fears of this place, and so he allowed himself to fall into a much needed and easy sleep._

_Because never before there had been someone who held him. Never before there had been someone who had entered his desert, and never before there had been someone who had cared so much for him like this man. Never before __…_

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-seven **

**A river in the desert**

**Saturday**

The next morning they had breakfast together, just like the day before, and again it was toast and sausages – well, it was better than nothing at all – and tea. Again the boy was smiling happily at him, the green eyes in the pale face not scared anymore and even if he couldn't explain it, it made him, Severus, happy at the same time. How was it that this four year old child could make him so happy? He wasn't a man that liked children at all and the younger they got the more they normally annoyed him.

Draco had been an exception, but not only was Draco his godson and he had seen him growing from day one, but the boy also was well raised and respected him, loved him even. So of course it was not so strange that he actually liked Draco. But little Harry here? Well, yes – he had to admit that this child too seemed to be – well no, _not_ well raised, but raised to fear. He was respectful towards him and he wasn't annoying at all, despite him being four years old only. But did this legitimise his liking the boy?

And since when had that blasted brat become little Harry in the first place?

Sighing he realized – it wasn't a question of legitimising if he liked the boy or not – it simply _was_ so, he _did_ like the child, the four year old brat, his son, and the next startling thought was that – he liked this snotty brat as much as he liked the thirteen year old brat – and that meant that he _did_ like the thirteen year old brat to begin with – because he remembered how much he'd had worried over the boy since he had taken him from his relatives' house. And surely anyone who worried as much over a child as he did over Harry would like said child, or the person wouldn't worry at all.

And yet – he didn't know how that boy had managed to worm himself into his – _heart_.

"Are you ready to go, child?" He asked, just to get his thoughts off this unpleasant line of thinking and gaining a scared look from the child, the boy gnawing at his lower lip and the Potions Master slowly reached over and gently tucked the child's lower lip from between his teeth. "Do not bite your lips, Harry. If you are still hungry, then there is more toast and sausages in this bag, you do not have to injure yourself more than you already are."

The child sucked in a startled breath at that and Snape watched him closely for a moment. The green eyes held uncertainty, watching him warily and it was clear – even if the child might trust him enough to sit here with him, to eat with him, to sleep in his arms even – but he did not trust him completely. He did not trust him to actually keep him safe while visiting his aunt and uncle, their house, or whatever they would find out there the boy in his mind compared with them.

"I will not allow them to hurt you again." He quietly said, kneeling down in front of the child so that he was at eye level. "I will be with you and I will not allow them to hurt you again. I will keep you safe."

"'womise?" The boy asked and even if he had to concentrate to understand the near baby-language the boy used – just like the day before – he _did_ understand and he nodded.

"I do promise." He reassured. "I will be with you and I will keep you safe. I will not allow them to hurt you again. That was the reason I have adopted you after all."

"What is … ad- … adop- … adoped?" The child wanted to know and he sighed.

"Come on, Harry." He said, standing and reaching his hand towards the little boy. "I will explain it to you on our way."

And so they went on, again – just like the day before – little Harry only reluctantly leaving the shelter and the safety this dungeons classroom provided him with and he nearly snorted for a moment at that thought – the dungeons classroom providing Harry Blasted Potter with safety! That simply was ridiculous. But then – he _had_ destroyed the boy's fears yesterday evening, hadn't he? He, who had caused them in the first place, _he_ had destroyed them now. And now the child felt safe in his dungeons. If only the thirteen year old would feel the same if they were back in his classroom for real next term, he realized.

Or maybe he would? Would this memory be ingrained into the boy's mind? Would this all have an impact on the boy's mind? And if yes, then what exactly would happen to the child's mind? Would this – adventure – help the child, the thirteen year old child in whose mind they right now resided, to trust him finally? Or would it destroy the child's fragile trust in him completely? And suddenly he realized that he held the child's trust in his hands. Whatever he would do and say here in the child's mind – he held the matter of trust or mistrust in his hands right now.

Merlin, what a mess!

Little Harry – just like the day before – was running ahead. Not far, he noticed, never far enough so that the boy could not see him anymore, could not hear him anymore or would not be able to reach him quickly anymore, but he _did_ run ahead, jumping over the cracks that again were there and trying to not touch them with his small feet, smiling and laughing while playing his game and again he – _nearly_ smiled at the thought that it was a child that could be happy with such a simple game only, jumping over cracks in dried earth.

What he however noticed was that – the dried earth had become darker. Slowly and slightly only, barely visible at first, but it _had_ become darker and he knew that they soon would reach – or at least near – their destiny. The earth that had been a light brown, it was now a darker brown, a dirty brown nearly and even if it still felt dried beneath his feet, it looked as if it were wet. Stopping in his steps he knelt down onto one knee and touched the ground.

It was as dry as it had been the day before and the evening he had come here into this desert. It was dry, hard and he wasn't able to break off a piece of it, never mind if it looked like being wet, it still was the same dried, cracked and hard desert ground.

Frowning he looked up when something touched his arm and he directly looked into the startled and frightened green eyes of his son, of his four year old son.

"What is it, child?" He quietly asked, but he got no answer except of a scared headshake, the child carefully and warily creeping closer, as if in his own way asking for permission and he slipped one arm around the thin frame while looking around the area.

Mist had arisen around them and his frown deepened. There had not been the slightest sign of mist arising just a moment ago and now the fog was around them, wavering in heavy clouds through the area.

He could feel the boy that by now was leaning against him trembling and he got to his feet, keeping his son in his arms while doing so and setting him onto his hips, not ready to release him and allow him to run ahead anymore, fearing that he could lose him in the fog. Not that the child would want to. He was sure that little Harry was scared of the mist, that he would not want running ahead anymore and so he went on, deeper into the grey-white vapour that threatened to swallow them.

"It is alright, little one." He said when he felt the child sneaking his thin, little arms around his neck and leaning his head onto his shoulder in an attempt to be even closer, his voice sounding strangely lost in the mist, and he tightened the grip he had on the boy. Merlin, if the child would be able to slip beneath his robes, then surely he would do so. But then, why ever not? And with one hand he drew his robes over the still trembling form he held in his arms.

He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, the little weight of the child he carried not really bothering him, when his surroundings again changed, the ground becoming steep and the fog around them becoming thicker. It was just like it had been since he was here at all, he had no sense of time or direction.

And then he stood at the bank of a river – of a river that made him shudder and the child in his arms quickly drew his head away, the entire small form shaking like a small earthquake.

"Hush, child." He whispered, trying to sound calm and reassuringly. "I am here." But he felt anything than calm.

He knew that something was wrong with this black river, that it had not been created by the child but by something else, by dark magic. He could feel it, could sense it with every beat of his heart, with all of his senses – this river had been created not by a child's mind but by very dark magic.

But what was it doing here in his son's mind? Who had created it and why? What purpose did this river have? How long was it here already? And – had Harry crossed this river on his way to flee from his relatives? Had the fear of them been stronger than the fear of this dark and looming water? Had he touched it while crossing the river and what had it done to the child? Had it done anything at all to him? What had it done to the child while being here in his mind in the first place? And then again – how long was it here? Who had created it here? And why?

Kneeling down onto one knee again he inspected the black water closer and he realized that it was not really water but a black and slobbery mass that slowly made its way downwards into whatever direction it was it headed for and he narrowed his eyes, ignoring the soft "no, no, no, no …" the child in his arms whimpered. He just tightened the grip he had at the child in his arms, trying to give as much safety as possible.

"Hush, child." He quietly said. "Do not fear, I will not touch it and neither will I allow you to touch it. Do you know a safe way to cross the river?"

But still little Harry in his arms wasn't able to say anything else than his mantra of "no, no, no, no …" and he sighed, knowing that they wouldn't be able to go on like this. He first needed to calm the child, then he needed to find a way to safely cross this – river, or whatever it was, and then he had to keep the child as calm as possible so that they could go on.

Of course he could leave the child's mind, he knew that. He could have left the child's mind already during their first night they had spend between the black boulders or during their second night they had spend in his potions classroom. But he knew – he just _knew_ – that he had to stay, that he had to help the boy finding back to the Dursleys to meet whatever there was to meet, to go back there, to the place he had fled from so that his four year old mind could catch up with his thirteen year old body, so that he could – start healing, for the lack of a better term.

And he knew that the small boy in his arms wouldn't be able to do that alone. He needed his help right now and so he would provide him with this help.

Getting to his feet he walked a few yards away from the black river, far enough so that the boy wouldn't see it anymore, but he, Severus, he still could sense it and for a moment he wondered why he had not sensed it earlier, before they had reached the black river, why he had only sensed it upon seeing it.

Sitting down onto the ground he pulled his bag from his back and opened it, still keeping the boy close, the child sitting on his lap and refusing to let go of him just as well.

"Care for a – well, toast and sausage, Harry?" He asked after looking over what was in the bag now and finding – again – toast and sausages, but the child shook his head against his chest. "You have to eat something, Harry." He then added. "You are too small and too thin, child. I guess that you did not have much to eat in the past. You need to eat now."

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"You did cross this river when you left your aunt and uncle, didn't you?" Snape asked, and nevertheless it was clear that it was not a question but a statement.

It had been a bit of an effort to get the child to eat anything instead of hiding himself away within his, Snape's robes, but in the end he had managed getting the child calmer a bit, getting him to eat a bit. For a moment he even had considered giving him the calming draught he had in his pocket together with some other potions he always carried with him, but then he had dismissed the thought.

One – the child had not been in a panic attack but simply scared and he had been able to deal with that without a potion – especially since he already resided in the child's mind.

Second – he didn't know what lay ahead of them and he feared he might need this particular potion sooner than he liked.

And third – it wouldn't do any good to the child if he were calmed with a potion here, within his mind. It wouldn't harm him of course, but in the long run, considering his trust – or his lack thereof – it would do him better if he calmed him with words and other means like that instead of with a potion, even if it took a bit longer. They had time after all. There was no need to hurry.

He knew that not only Moody had placed Dawlish and Savage in Harry's room, but that Nolan as well had placed two guards there, one within the room and one outside the door, most likely Smith being one of those he had placed inside, near the fireplace, together with Stevens for the next shift. He wasn't entirely sure but he thought he had heard their voices every now and then through a haze and that at least eased his mind. Moody and Nolan would protect Harry and him, Snape, at St. Mungos from Dumbledore or whomever the blasted headmaster sent over and so he could concentrate onto that child alone without being pressured by reality.

He might not really like Moody, he actually disliked the blasted auror quite a deal, had he been the one that had wanted him being sent to Azkaban the most – but he trusted him that he would keep Harry safe – and therefore him right now as well as he resided in the child's mind. Moody would not risk anything, he knew that.

Looking back at the boy he sighed and ran his hand over his face for a moment, tiredly.

"When you crossed that black river, did you touch that – fluid?" He finally asked, trying to get answers, trying to find not only a way to safely cross that river but to make sure that the child had not been damaged by the dark magic it contained as well. Harry didn't give him a verbal answer, just shook his head, again trying to get closer to him even if he already sat on his lap, trying to again hide within the folds of his robes.

"That was very clever of you." Snape then said, trying to find a way to get this child out of the mess that was his mind without causing any damage – neither to the four year old, nor to the thirteen year old child. "So you did find a bridge or something akin to that?" He then asked, still holding the child in a secure grip that would give him some sense of safety but not allowing him to hide beneath the folds of his robe. Not now.

Little Harry in his arms nodded shakily, unsurely.

"Do you remember which direction it lays from here?" He then asked, remembering that the boy as it seemed did have no sense of direction. "Do you know which way we have to go from here to reach that crossing?"

And really, there was a just as slight and hesitant shaking of the child's head and Severus sighed. Of course the boy didn't know which direction to go. This Harry here was a four year old child after all and only Merlin knew how long it had been since he had crossed that blasted river. Maybe it had been nine years ago, considering that the boy in reality was thirteen years old. No four year old child would be able to remember that for nine years.

"Alright." He said. "What do you say, which direction should we take, Harry?" Maybe the child remembered instinctively and so it maybe would be better if he allowed the boy to make this decision because honestly – he, Severus, had no clue.

Little Harry however again shook his head, clearly not wanting to take _any_ direction, not wanting to cross that river at all, that much was clear and his hand traitorously acted on itself, starting to rub small circles over the child's back.

"Come now, Harry." He soothingly said. "We will have to take one direction, and I guess you know this, child. The only question is – do we go left or right?"

But again little Harry only shook his head.

"We have to, Harry." He said. "It simply is inevitable. And I still promise you – I will be there, I won't leave you alone and I won't let any harm befall you, alright?"

There wasn't an answer for some time and Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry had a hard time controlling his patience, but then finally – the boy nodded and pointed to their right. He didn't know if little Harry really remembered or if he just had given an answer he had felt right at the moment, but he didn't care, knowing that most likely the first answer was the one that was intuitively and therefore the correct one. And so he got up, his arms tightly holding the child and he started walking to the west, along the black river and through the fog that wavered around them heavily.

Again he didn't know how long he had been walking, the child still in his arms, clinging to him like a leech. The boy didn't tremble that bad anymore, just shivered from time to time, but he didn't release him once, his little fists clenched tightly within the folds of his robe. He didn't laugh anymore either however, and neither did he once speak or answer his questions with more than a shaking of his head or a nod and the Potions Master knew that – never mind how much he had feared going to the potions classroom yesterday – this here, was much worse, the child in his arms not only was frightened but terrified. The question was – was he terrified of the river or was he terrified of their final destination?

And so he walked on, only shifting the child to his other side from time to time, his son each time reluctant to release the folds of his robe so that he _could_ shift him at all and he had to reassure him each time with gentle words while he physically had to pry the boy's fingers off his robe. The folds of the black robe however were gripped back as soon as little Harry _was_ shifted to his other side, the little fists gripping the folds even more tightly then.

His son even had kept this tight grip on the folds of his robe when he had fallen asleep at one point. He had taken the opportunity to sit down for a few minutes, shifting the child so that he rather lay on his lap and then he lifted little Harry's worn and much too large shirt, inspecting the bruises and cuts.

He of course couldn't be sure, but if his guess was correct – and he nearly was sure that it was – then the child had left the Dursleys nine years ago and still his injuries had carried on until he had added the healing potion to the bath last night – in the cauldron, he remembered with a huff. But at least they were healing now, still visible, but definitely healing.

For a moment he wondered if those bruises and cuts were the mental injuries the thirteen year old suffered from, as this four year old was his mental self in his mind after all, but he wasn't sure.

The mind of a human being wasn't that easy to browse through after all. You couldn't just enter someone's mind and then go through it and read thoughts, view memories or witness emotions. It was a complex thing with layers of layers that needed to be handled very carefully or it could be damaged beyond repair. And you wouldn't learn to know a person just from going through all those layers either.

And so it could be that this four year old really bore the mental injuries and scars of the thirteen year old child, but it also could be that they were simple physical scars and injuries that simply never had healed as the child himself had remained four for years and he bore the mental scars added to the physical ones just like the thirteen year old Harry did. He didn't know.

Taking a jar from one of the pockets of his robes he started covering the already healing bruises and cuts with the healing salve before lowering the shirt back. He for a moment frowned down at the sleeping child he held in his arms, his blood running cold for a moment, remembering that the thirteen year old Harry had been abused sexually as well and in a most cruel way no less, and with shaking fingers he drew his wand and waved it over the small body, hoping, praying even, that the child had not been touched at that age.

For a moment he feared that nothing would happen, the diagnostic charm not working on the mental image the child was, but then the parchment appeared and the quill was starting to scribble as it should be. The list was rather long, considering that it was a four year old child, but he crossed out all that had to do with little Harry only being a mental image the spell had noticed and left were that what he had seen. Bruises and cuts in variable stages of healing that were caused by beatings only. The child had not been raped or sexually abused in any other way yet.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves that had overstrained for a moment he put his wand away and then stood to continue his walking, again carrying the child that luckily had not woken throughout the procedure.

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He should have known!

He should have known that it wasn't a comfortable bridge that was leading across the black river, that it wasn't even an old rope bridge or something like that – but a simple tree. A simply tree that lay across the black river, old, rotten and surely anything else than to be trusted, and he sighed.

"Is this the place where you crossed that River?" He asked the child, hoping to gain a headshake, but this time the blasted boy nodded for a change.

"How did you manage to cross the river on that tree, for Merlin's sake?" He asked, his voice incredulously.

Could he risk apparating them over the black river? What would happen to the child's mind in this case? Upon such strong magic as apparition was being used? Where would they even land within the child's mind after apparating? Anything could happen, and he knew it – and he was not ready to take the risks, not while being in an innocent child's mind.

"Alright, Harry." He said. "You will stay right here where you are and I will go to the other side to see if the log is safe to be crossed. Then I will come back to get you."

"No!" The boy nearly screamed into his ear, clinging to his robes like mad, his little arms wrapped around his neck so firmly the child nearly chocked him and he wondered where that skinny skeleton took his strength from. "No! No, no, no!"

"I surely will not take you with me crossing this log before I cannot be sure that it will hold, Harry." He strictly said, but still the child did not let go of him.

"This is not up for discussion, Harry." He said, sharpening his tone even, forcing himself to ignore the flinch the child gave away, but still – the child did not let go of him, clinging even tighter and crying openly now, sobbing into his shoulder and shaking his head, rubbing snot all over his robe in the process.

"Let go of my robe, Harry." He strictly ordered. "Now!"

Well, that command at least seemed to do the trick and little Harry immediately obeyed, opened his little fists and let go of the fabric, slowly, reluctantly drawing his little arms back from around his neck and Severus sat him down onto the ground, kneeling beside him and taking his shoulders.

"Very good." He quietly said. "I am proud of you and I promise you, I will come back. I won't leave you behind. I want you to wait here. Do _not_ go close to that river and do _not_ go anywhere else either. I expect you to _wait – right – here_! I will go over that log to test it and then I will come back to get you, alright?"

Well, if he had expected an answer, then he was very wrong, because he didn't get one, the child only looking up at him with large, frightened and accusing green eyes, mistrust clearly written within them once again and it was clear that he didn't believe him. In his eyes he was leaving him alone again, in his eyes he was abandoning him.

"I will be back in a few moments, I promise, child." He quietly said. "I won't abandon you." And then he quickly stood and left for the log, knowing that he best got it over with as quickly as possible so that he could show the boy that – yes, he would be back, and no, he would not abandon him here.

The walk over to the log, knowing that he left his son behind, sitting there, miserably, it was even more difficult than actually stepping onto the tree, but he knew that he couldn't take the child with him before he wasn't sure the log would hold. It was too dangerous and he would not risk his son's life should the log not hold - but it did and he safely reached the other end of the tree, turned and went back to get little Harry.

The boy still was sitting where he had left him, curled on himself, his back facing the black river and the log as if he were unwilling to face him leaving, while he had his knees drawn close to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, and the shaking of the small and delicate shoulders indicating that the child was crying.

"Harry?" He quietly asked, placing his hand onto the small shoulder of his son but the boy immediately pulled his shoulder away from him, as if telling him in a wordless way that he wanted to be left alone.

"Harry." He said, grabbing for the shoulder again, more tightly this time, but again the boy pulled away from him, a sob escaping his throat despite the otherwise silent crying and with a sigh he simply took the child beneath his armpits and lifted him up, ignoring the slight struggle and placed the boy onto his hip again, carrying him over to the log. A moment later the small arms once again wrapped themselves around his neck, again nearly strangling him and the child by then openly sobbed into his shoulder, unable to hold back a normal children's reaction like demanding needed comfort by crying openly anymore and he himself tightened his grip he had on his son.

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He again had gone on walking for what had felt like about an hour or two and he had to admit that – as little as his son weighted – he definitely was tiring slowly but surely, even if little Harry was still clinging to him like a leech, taking some of his own weight from his arms. Well, at least the child wasn't crying anymore.

He however didn't like the silent behaviour either. He had tried talking to the child, asking questions in the hope that he would get an answer, but he had gotten nothing except of a slight, weak headshake or nod once in a while. He didn't know if it was because of his son being still mad at him for leaving him behind while testing the log or if it was because of the child being afraid of what lay ahead of them, the Dursleys' household – or something akin to that.

And indeed, in the distance he could see the silhouette of a building. He wasn't able to make out anything more or any details, but he was sure that it definitely _was_ a building and taking a deep breath and knowing what it meant to his son, that it would terrify him badly, he continued walking.

He himself feared what he might find there, he had to admit that. He had seen the horrors the child had gone through while being in that household when he had taken Harry from the Dursleys, the thirteen year old Harry, and he had seen the horrors the child had gone through while he had tended to the child's injuries, while sitting beside the bed the boy had been laying in, not sure if he would survive at all and for a moment he wondered if little Harry's core had started breaking back then already.

But then he mentally shook his head. No – if the boy's core had started breaking back then already, then he surely would not have been alive with thirteen still. A broken core of a child so young would have caused his death within a year or two and Harry had lived nine years after that – _if_ his theory was correct.

Said child in his arms had started trembling again the closer they had come to the building and he again had started hiding his face within the folds of his robe and he, Severus wrapped his cloak over the small form, covering and shielding him further from what caused so much terror to him while he took the last few steps towards the building.

He arrived at a warped version of Number four Privet Drive where only this one house was standing, the other houses simply were not there – nothing else of Privet Drive was there actually, except for the house of the Dursleys, and only a dry and harsh desert. The painting of the house in front of him, a house with the number four dangling lopsided above the door, was almost brown with age and peeled in long strips, and the walls that still stood surprisingly erect were riddled with cracks, while more then a few pieces of wall were missing completely, the house merely a ruin than an actual intact house anymore.

The only firm looking part was the front door of the house, even if it was ajar. All of the windows were either cracked or broken completely with sharp shards of glass threatening to cut anything that might think of getting inside – or outside while a lawn that once had been green was now brown and dead with age, overgrown and easily reaching the Potions Master's knees, the beds where once most likely had grown flowers were dead and empty too.

Severus approached the house slowly feeling as if he were walking into some kind of horror movie in a muggle cinema and he tightened his grip on the violently shivering child once more, running his hand up and down the bony back in an attempt to not only calm the small child he carried and that was his son but himself just as well.

For a moment he hesitated, looking down at the child in his arms that was trembling and shivering, sobbing quietly, and he couldn't deny that he was more than just worried, but then he reached out one hand to open the door, sneering at the fact that the ajar door held no knob but a handle, the muggles making it easy for any burglars to break into the house despite the wards Dumbledore had placed upon their living area – but nothing happened.

Frowning he pushed a bit harder, but still – nothing happened and with his frown deepening Severus pushed with all of his strength, but the door – unwilling to him – did not open to him.

"Child?" He asked, looking down at the boy worriedly again. He wasn't entirely sure, but he had the feeling that it was the same effect as it was with the bag that contained food each time they needed something to eat – little Harry being unwilling to enter that particular house and the door therefore not opening. "I do know that you do not wish to enter, but it is necessary and I do promise that I won't leave you alone. I promise that I won't allow you to be hurt again. I promise."

But again the child simply shook his head at him.

"Harry, it is important." He tried again. "I need you to trust me right now, can you do that?"

Little Harry looked up at him, startled at his words, at his question, asking him to trust him, and he regarded him with an unsure but thoughtful look for a long time during which he was amazed at how intense that look was, at how thoughtful, the child really thinking about his question and he wondered what it was that was going through that child's head. But then little Harry took a deep and shuddering breath and leaned his head back against his chest.

Snape blinked – stupidly.

Was that a yes? Or a no? Was that meant to be an "I don't know"?

Testily he reached out and pushed against the ajar door and – it opened.

"I do thank you, Harry." He quietly whispered, cupping the child's head to protect him better. "I know how hard this has been for you and I am very proud of you, son." And then he took a deep breath and stepped inside the building.

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He desperately looked around, forcing himself to keep from cursing loudly and only barely managing while fear washed over him in waves over waves, his chest and stomach physically hurting. His heart beat so furiously against his chest he was sure it never before had beat like that, not even in the presence of the Dark Lord and he actually had to fight the panic that threatened to wash over him.

The moment he had entered that house, the moment he had stepped over the threshold, Harry had been gone from his arms. The boy had looked up at him for a moment with sad and terrified eyes, as if he had known what would happen – and then he simply had been gone, had vanished as if being apparated away, as if having touched a portkey, and he had been left standing there with his hands grasping naught but thin air.

What had happened? Where was the child? What …

Forcing himself to take in his surroundings he noticed a hallway with the same design as had held the real Number four Privet Drive except for the colours that were dulled. Even the white walls appeared grey – but there was no sign of Harry and he forced his mind to take him to the small room upstairs where he knew Harry had been kept in real life.

Multiple locks were fixed to the small door and once again he wondered how someone could live in such an environment, being locked away for years and years, how someone could force a child to live in such an environment, how someone could lock a child away for years and years. He used his wand to open all six of the padlocks and contraire to the front door they opened easily. With a shaking hand he pushed the door open, the rusted hinges creaking, and then he stepped in.

For a moment he wondered how little Harry, _this_ little Harry here, could remember that room at all as he had been kept in a cupboard at first, only Merlin knew for how many years, but as it seemed the boy had kept not only his memories from his four year old mental self but from his thirteen year old real self as well.

But the room was empty and it took the Potions Master only one look before he hastily turned on his heels and hurried along the upstairs corridor, hurried downstairs and along that corridor as well on his search for a cupboard. He stopped dead in his steps the moment he reached the one that was built into the wall, the cupboard under the stairs.

Was that where they had kept the child for years? Like one would not even keep an animal?

With a trembling hand he reached over and slid the bolt back and then opened the door, again the child's mind allowing him to do so, and he gasped in horror as he saw the small child laying in there, curled up in one of the dark corners, new bruises covering the bare arms and the small face, a bleeding cut on his forehead and his lower lip, and instinctively he knew that beneath the too large clothing were more injuries.

Slowly he took a step forwards to enter the small space, to take his son out of there, but he couldn't. A firm barrier was placed around the area and he immediately realized that it wasn't the boy this time who kept him from coming close. It was not a simple child's mind, this barrier, it was magic, real magic and it wasn't anything like his son's magical signature.

It was Dumbledore's.

The headmaster had placed a barrier around that cupboard to keep any wizard from entering and reaching the child within and suddenly he understood. Dumbledore had known. Dumbledore had known that the boy lived in a cupboard and Dumbledore had known that how badly he had been abused. Dumbledore had known and he had made sure that no wizard would be able to take the child away.

For a moment he nearly seethed with fury and rage before panic threatened to overtake again, but then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He only would startled and frighten the child, his son, more than he already was if he didn't manage to keep calm.

"Harry." He called out to the child to get the boy's full attention. The boy had looked at him already, silently asking him for help, silent tears running down the pale and dirty face, the small form trembling and shivering, quietly sobbing, and the sharp smell of ammonia told him that the child had wet himself, most likely had lost control over his bladder in his unspeakable terror.

"I need you to look at me, Harry." He said, shoving his own fears to the back of his mind, ignoring his painfully clenching chest and he knelt down onto one knee. "I need you to come here, child."

He didn't know wherefrom he knew – but he knew that this was the one thing that the child would have to do by himself. He had to get out of that cupboard by himself because he knew that – no matter how hard he pushed against the barrier, he would not be allowed in. Harry had to leave this place by himself and he knew that he would be able to, the boy had left that cupboard before.

He watched the four year old version of Harry rocking back and forth in the corner, his eyes watching him warily, pain and fear the most dominating emotions in those green eyes and shame and embarrassment following close behind, shame and embarrassment most likely of having wet himself.

"Harry?" He again called softly, again trying to keep any anger he might feel towards that muggles – and Dumbledore – out of his voice, forcing himself to again ignore the soft whimpers that cut through the near darkness in the cupboard.

"I … I s-sowwy, unca V'non." The child whimpered and the strictest teachers ever seen at Hogwarts felt his heart breaking in thousands of pieces at the fear he could hear in this trembling whispers. "P-pwease d-don' huwt an'mowe."

"I am not your uncle, Harry." He quietly answered, his dark eyes never leaving the green ones of his son. "It is me, Severus, your father, and I have come to take you away from here. But you have to come to me, I cannot get in to take you out of this – _place_. You have to come to me, can you do this, Harry?"

For a moment the child stopped his rocking and slowly blinked at him, squinting his eyes to see better, but then his green eyes got unfocused again.

"C-can't …" He whispered with another sob. "Owwie."

"Do at least try it, Harry." Severus insisted, trying to persuade the child. "You have to try. Do you not want to come outside with me?"

"C-can't." Came the answer from the child. "Not 'lowed out. Unca V'non mad. Huwt Awwy when mad."

"Your uncle is not here right now, but I am here to take you away from your uncle, Harry." Severus said, his efforts to try and keep calm getting more and more difficult. "I am here to take you with me, child, and I won't allow anyone to hurt you anymore. I promise, no one is going to hurt you anymore. Please, I need you to come here."

"Don' wanna huwt an'mowe." The child whispered, a spark of hope creeping into the dull and frightened green eyes.

"Then you _must_ come here." Severus insisted strictly now, reaching out his hand invitingly, his open and empty palm turned upwards so that he wouldn't frighten the child. "Just come here."

"'m scawed." Harry's small voice whispered.

"Hush, child, I know." He said, having to battle to keep his growing desperation and frustration out of his voice, knowing that Harry needed reassurance and calmness to fight his – mental fears, his memories, his mental self – he didn't know what exactly it was the child was fighting right now. "Just come here, come to me."

He watched little Harry slowly moving, leaning to his side and stretching out his hand to steady himself at the wall so he could stand up. A moment later the child however bent over with a chocked out "owwie", curling in on himself while laying on the floor.

Gritting his teeth in pure frustration the Potions Master took a deep breath to keep control over himself, over the helplessness he felt, over the emotions that threatened to drawn him, emotions he wasn't used to at all – emotions he didn't like at all.

"If you cannot walk here then crawl over." He said, trying to encourage the child to do anything to come out of there. "I know you can do that. You have managed before, you can crawl over here. Do it! Now!" He hated it to give such a sharp command to the already scared and frightened child that definitely was in pain and had troubles moving at all, but he needed the child getting out of there so that he could grab him.

And it seemed to work, because the boy slowly crawled over to him, crawling on his hands and knees and he immediately noticed that he kept from leaning onto his left wrist at all.

"That's it, Harry." He said, whispered, leaning forwards eagerly, ready to grab the child the moment he left the barrier. "Just like that, you are nearly there. Just one arm length more. Yes!" He nearly shouted when the child's head and shoulders reached through the barrier and he grabbed the fragile upper arms and pulled his son away from that area completely before he gently picked him up.

"What the ruddy hell are you …"

Quickly the Potions Master turned, his wand in his hand immediately and upon seeing the man that had hurt his son standing there he lifted his wand, already a curse on his lips. But then he looked down at the frightened child and lowered his wand. He would not do anything to that creature while being in the child's mind. He would not do any harm in here. The child still was so pure despite all he had gone through, except for that black river that had not been created by him even – he would not destroy that, he would not take this away from the child, and especially – he would not force the child to witness him killing his uncle. So he simply turned so that he was shielding the child from his uncle's view – or the child's view at his uncle – with his own body.

"What are you doing with that freak? Get the hell out of here and put that freak back into its cupboard where it belongs to." The blasted man ranted against him. "And you, freak, you better pray that you'll survive tonight! Inviting other freaks like you into my house! How dare you!"

Little Harry who had gone rigid and then frozen within his arms, now started to struggle out of his grip while shaking his head and screaming at the top of his lungs in his terror and Snape for a moment had all his hands full keeping his son from falling, keeping himself from getting hit by the flailing arms of the child and trying to get his own soothing words through the terrified screaming to calm the boy down somehow.

"Harry, stop it." He said, loud enough to drown out the screams while still not screaming at the child himself. "Stop listening to him … Harry, look at me! Calm down! He cannot hurt you." But it was to no avail. The blasted man still screamed at the boy and Harry still screamed in his terror.

Closing his eyes and using all of his strength as a legillimens he started to built a wall between the abominable man that was his son's uncle and Harry, finding no resistance. The boy trusted him completely, and nevertheless it crumbled under the fear and terror the still sobbing and struggling child in his arms felt. At least he had been able to keep the wall there for long enough so that the child had stopped his piercing screaming – and Merlin – he was not going to lose the child to his frightened state of mind!

"Listen to me now, Harry!" He said, shifting his son in his arms.

"Daddy! Help!"

For a moment he wondered whom the boy meant until he realized that little Harry indeed had meant _him_ and he blinked stupidly for a moment before he got back control over himself and did the only thing he right now could think of – he wrapped his cloak tightly around the small form and pressed the child against his own body.

"I am here, son." He said suddenly calm as ever. "Just listen to me Harry. I am here and I need you to trust me. He cannot hurt you here, you are not alone, I am here with you. It is your mind, Harry, you have all the power here. Do you remember how you kept me from opening the door at first? It was you, your mind who tried to keep me out. It is your mind and you have all the power here. And right now I need you to stop listening to your uncle. He is not here, nor can he hurt you here. I need you to trust me and to stop listening to him. He can do nothing to you, not here and not in my presence!"

It took him a few more moments, but then the child really calmed down, only his breathes coming in shuddering gasps and only the small body trembling like a leave in a storm.

"That's it, child." He said, running his hand up and down the small back while approaching the front door, knowing that the child had done what he had to do – namely getting out of that cupboard himself and then taking power over his own mind and shoving his uncle out. "I am very proud of you, child. I am really very proud of you!" He said, actually _feeling_ that pride at his son swelling in his chest while he carried the boy through the front door and out of the house. He walked away a few yards before he sat down, the child still held tightly in his arms.

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**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Coming back to St. Mungos_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	28. back at St Mungos

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Added Author's Notes:**

Uhm … even during my holidays I haven't forgotten this story and I've thought over it a lot … my husband even got annoyed because of my constant asking of his opinion … *lol* … however, I've given this a new twist now, two new twists actually, and I'd like to know your opinion on this … hope you like it and won't skin me for it …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"That's it, child." He said, running his hand up and down the small back while approaching the front door, knowing that the child had done what he had to do – namely getting out of that cupboard himself and then taking power over his own mind and shoving his uncle out. "I am very proud of you, child. I am really very proud of you!" He said, actually feeling that, pride at his son swelling in his chest while he carried the boy through the front door and out of the house. He walked away a few yards before he sat down, the child still held tightly in his arms._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-eight **

**Back at St. Mungos**

**Sunday**

After – once again – healing little Harry's injuries he had brought the child back to the black boulders he had chosen for his shelter, noticing that this time he had reached them much quicker than when he had left them with the small child and he had made sure that the boy had fallen asleep peacefully, had left his bag with the food and his cloak with the child before he had left, knowing that he had to leave and knowing that he couldn't take the small child with him, never mind how reluctant he was in leaving a four year old child behind on his own in such a setting like this desert.

But he had known that he'd _had_ to leave, that his mission had been completed and that now – he simply had to leave so that he could care for the real Harry. It wouldn't do any good to any of them if he lost himself within the child's mind after all.

He had hesitated for a while longer, running his hand over the child's forehead, simply watching him for a few minutes more before he carefully had left Harry's mind, had come back to reality and now he was sitting on the bed, still behind the boy, still cradling the too small body of his thirteen year old son, simply refusing to let go of him since hours now while he ignored the pointed looks Nolan threw at him from time to time, knowing that the healer would like having him asleep rather than sitting here.

"I will go for a walk through the garden under the only condition that you promise to keep watch over Harry added to your and Moody's wards. But that is all I grant you, Nolan." He said, growled, while running his hand over the pale face of the child he still held in his arms.

Of course Nolan had asked questions when he had come back, but he hadn't been ready to give answers right then and he had told the healer so. He simply had needed more time to go over all that he had learned while being in his son's mind – for actually two days, he had learned at one point or another since he was back now. This time together with little Harry, with his four year old son – it was _his_, and he had the right to go over it before he chose to share any of it with anyone.

"Alright, Severus." Nolan sighed and he could see that it was not what the healer originally had wanted. "At least you are getting out of here for a while. Would you mind me preparing a bed beside your son's so that you at least can rest? I know that you won't leave this room to actually going home, now that Dumbledore openly is after the boy, but I want you to rest when needed. Your son needs you healthy."

He gave a curt not before he gently lifted Harry's body from his chest and then worked his way from beneath and behind the boy before lowering him just as gently back down onto the bed.

He wasn't staring ahead anymore, but he didn't know if this was because of the effect his visit surely had had on the child's mind or if it simply was because Harry was sleeping since he had left his son's mind. Had he fallen asleep at the same time as had little Harry when they had made it back to that black boulders? Would he wake up in the morning? And what would happen then?

And he knew that _anything_ could happen.

The child could regress to the four year old to begin with, even in his physical, in his real state, he could understand and start healing – in which way ever – he could remember their time in his mind, it even could be that he wouldn't remember – or that nothing changed at all, he didn't know. But he knew that Nolan was right. He needed to sleep for a bit and he wasn't able to leave his son alone for the night to go back to the manor, not after what had happened during the past few days, and he surely wouldn't be able to sleep before he had not sorted through his own mind – and for doing that he needed to walk a few steps, to take a few breathes of fresh air and to leave this room, to be on his own for a few minutes at least.

And so he left the room his son lay in, noticing Hotaru sitting in one corner of the room, quietly, nearly like a shadow, drawing his wand and give him a nod as well. The old Master also would watch over Harry.

He went down the corridor, down the flight of steps and then through the entrance hall of the children's ward, for a moment watching the children that were sitting in one corner or another, other children that were running around him, laughing, and he realized that Harry should be one of them instead of laying alone in a room and warded by at least five wizards right now. Harry should be one of the children running around him in pyjamas, already prepared for bed but not ready to lay down yet.

"Professor, Professor! Look!" A small voice made him turn to his left and he watched Andrew running towards him. "Look at that, Professor! See?"

"What am I supposed to see, Andrew?" He asked with his eyebrow lifted at the boy.

"Professor!" Andrew called out, impatiently. "Please!"

"Yes, I indeed do see that you are able moving your hand and especially your fingers again." Snape then said with nearly a smile on his face. "You did the exercises I showed you three times each day?"

"Yes, Professor!" The boy beamed at him.

"And you did not have any problems with them?" Snape then asked.

"No, Professor." Andrew answered. "And I've shown them mum too and she said she'll work with me on them when I'm at home again."

"Did you already get a date of discharge?" He asked, frowning. Andrew surely was far from being healthy enough to be discharged and just because he could move his hand and fingers again didn't mean that the damage to the nerves were undone as well yet.

"No." The boy said, his face falling. "But I'll be back home one day, won't I?"

"Of course you will, Andrew." He said. "I however fear that it will take at least a week more you will have to reside here with us. It is however a good thing that you showed your mother so that she indeed can work with you on your range of movement the moment you _are_ back home. And now run along, boy, and play with the others. It is curfew soon – and surely you won't want getting caught out in the corridors after curfew." He added with a pointed look and his typically lifted eyebrow.

"Yes, Professor, I mean, no, Professor, thank you." The child said happily and he watched him running back to the corner where he had been sitting at a table with a few other children, Michael being one of them, he noticed.

Strange, really, he thought for a moment, that he got along with those children here so much while he had so much trouble with them at Hogwarts. Andrew wasn't a Slytherin, and neither was Michael, but he … well, at least he did not dislike them. He turned and left the building through the main entrance, and then he started walking along one of the paths that led through the park, enjoying the summer evening sun. Here the children seemed different than when they were at school.

Andrew was a Ravenclaw that had fallen off a cliff during his holidays in Peru and he had damaged his hand badly. It had taken healer Arden quite some time to repair the smashed bones and the cut and crushed sinews and nerves. But here – he got along with the boy. Michael neither was a Slytherin, he was a Hufflepuff that had been bitten by a dog rather badly, and it had been him who had been here when his father had brought the boy. He'd had cleaned the wounds, had started healing them, but he immediately had known that they wouldn't heal quickly, seeing that the dog that had bitten him had been a periculi-dog, one of the few periculi-dogs that were heard of within Great Britain, and so he had kept the boy here at St. Mungos – luckily, as the day after the wounds had become infected.

He never had understood parents who kept such dangerous animals together with children. They could be as good and as nice as possible, but they still were dangerous animals and one day their dangerous nature would break forth. And mostly it were the children that were harmed, not the animals. Like Michael.

And now Harry. Harry too was not a Slytherin, he was a Gryffindor that had been abused by his uncle and again – he got along with the child, even liked the boy!

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Minerva had brought Muriel over today for an after-checkup, and right now she waited for her being finished finally. They had told her that she could pick her sister up at six, but she had been here at six and they hadn't finished the examination and now it was seven, for Merlin's sake. Not that she minded waiting for her sister, it was important that she was healthy and that no long lasting damage had been done by that blasted potions accident of hers after all, but she hated it having to wait.

The small figure of the Potions Master leaving the children's wing of the hospital caused her thoughts to strive into a different direction and she watched the man walking along one of the side paths that led into the garden, frowning.

Severus Snape didn't have the traditional good looks that had bewitched her back then, definitely not. The younger wizard had a too large nose that definitely had been broken one or two times too often in his younger years without being set correctly before healing. Yet, large as it was, it somehow fit his face, giving him a … strange look of – something akin to pride. And she _knew_ that Severus was a _very_ proud man – and an honourable man, even if he never saw it that way himself.

Smiles were a very rare sight and were meant only for people he cared about deeply. A few times during the past years, she had caught the smallest of smiles directed at herself and found that just _those_ small smiles, added to the man's rather expressive, black eyes, gave him a certain appeal that would keep any young woman around – what actually had caused her to growl at one or another of her sixth or seventh year students back then as well.

And last but not least – that voice of his.

Surly, it was a magical power that he wielded with great skill and that should have been forbidden by law. There actually was a physical feeling to the Potions Master's voice that sometimes gave even _her_ the chills and she knew him since many years now. And they weren't unpleasant chills, she had to admit that. It surely was no wonder that amongst his older students there were a few young girls that were harbouring secret crushes on the dark wizard just over the silken touch in his voice.

What impressed her however the most, was the way he fought for Harry – or rather, like he had said, with him. This dark and though man, feared and hated by most of the students, called a heartless bastard by them, that man cared for one Harry Potter now Snape enough to give said boy a reason to fight too. He cared. He cared enough to adopt her Gryffindor student even, a boy that needed a caring adult in his life, and Severus Snape provided that boy with what he needed.

Quietly she stood from the bench she had been sitting at, enjoying the evening sun and she walked over the lawn to meet the younger wizard on the path he was walking along, still watching the dark figure.

Yes, Severus was 34 years old while she herself was 69 years old, more than twice as Severus' age – but within the wizarding world such differences in age did not really matter much. It definitely had _not_ bothered them back then, ten years ago, and it definitely had not been the reason as to why they had ended their relationship. It hadn't even been Severus' fault at all – it simply had happened.

Those three years they had been together, they had been one of the best years of her life, she had to admit that – even if she always had known that he still loved Lily. It hadn't bothered her, she herself still loved this young witch, even if she still loved her in a different way than Severus.

However, she loved that man's sense of humour, his sarcasm and acerbic remarks. She loved his sharp wit and his indifferent and yet proud behaviour. She loved his dark voice and his dark eyes, and she definitely loved his passion. As indifferent that young man was generally – he _could_ be a _very_ passionate man. If he wanted to be, that was. So – yes, if she was honest with herself, then she had to admit that – she simply still loved that man, even if it had been _she_ who had ended their relationship ten years ago.

"Severus?" She asked the moment she fell in step with the man she would have married years ago if she had not hesitated back then, if she had been ready to share her life with any man back then.

"Minerva." He greeted her back. "Your sister had another potions accident so soon after her last one?"

"Of course not." She huffed. "I've brought her this morning for an after-checkup and they said I could pick her up at six."

"Let me guess, they kept you waiting, didn't they?" Severus asked, his eyebrow lifted and she lowered her head for a bit to hide her smile.

"They did." She then sighed.

"That is standard here at St. Mungos." Severus growled darkly and again there was that chill that ran down her spine. "They always take longer than they predict as the management refuses to employ more healers and the ones they have are unable to cope – especially during the summer holidays."

"Yes, normally the infirmary of Hogwarts or other educational institutes as well as the medical rooms at the ministry overtakes some accidents and illnesses." She sighed.

"Indeed." Came the answer and she glanced over at the younger man. She knew that Severus was working together rather closely with Poppy in the infirmary – as well as he worked here during his holidays. Of course Severus would know. And suddenly it wasn't so strange anymore, that dark and cold man caring about Harry as much as he actually did. He _had_ an education as a healer after all and therefore he _had_ to care somehow, didn't he?

"Are you getting along with Harry?" She asked glancing over at him.

"Of course, Minerva." The Potions Master huffed at her. "We are getting along just fine. The boy just nearly gets a heart attack every time I am getting a little bit louder or each time I am moving a bit quicker – or too close. Moreover everything is just splendid."

"Severus!" She shook her head at the man. "You are …"

"Yes, Minerva, dear?" Severus asked with his silkiest voice possible, smirking at her and there it was, that small smile that threatened to move his lips into an upwards curve.

"You are incredible, Severus Snape." She scowled at him.

"Hmm." He made with an eyebrow lifted at her. "Yes, you used to say that a lot, Minerva." He quietly said while his eyes went distant for a moment as if _he too_ seemed to remember. Could it be that Severus actually did? Could it be that _he too_ still remembered? That _he too_ still – _cared_?

"I have to go looking for Muriel." She quickly and quietly said. "Please do keep me informed concerning Harry."

"I will." The Potions Master simply said, inclining his head towards her and she turned, leaving him behind and hurrying towards the main building of the hospital.

She knew very well that anyone who didn't know them better would think that they hated each other with a passion, but that was far from the truth. Their distaste for each other was just an act, a friendly but long standing banter between the two heads of houses. They _did_ have a healthy competition with each other of course, like all the heads of houses, but not only were they able to work together rather well like all the heads of houses, but behind all the banter and point-taking they had a very close relationship still, even now, years after they had ended their bond they once had shared., they still enjoyed each others company, even if they often _seemed_ cold and indifferent, uncaring.

She nevertheless knew that the man cared. Even now, after all those years, as it seemed.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

For a moment he had considered asking Minerva about the boy, but he knew that she wouldn't have seen anything out of the ordinary. While she _was_ a good friend, a _very_ good friend indeed, and a good teacher, the woman had a disturbing blindness to problems any larger than passing the OWLs and NEWTs, or physical injury that would prevent Quidditch play, honestly.

Again he remembered, after the short conversation he'd had with her and he was sure that Minerva had remembered as well.

He had been really young when they had started their relationship, Merlin, Minerva could have been his mother after all, but the three years they'd been together, they had been three good years. He'd had someone on his side who not only didn't hate him, who not only didn't distrust him, but who actually _liked_ him. He didn't dare thinking that Minerva might have loved him back then. He simply had been too young and he simply wasn't someone who was loved easily.

He shuddered at the thought of the word alone for a moment. Love was something for fools and neither he nor Minerva were fools. Of course he had been sad when she had broken up their relationship, but he should have known that it wouldn't hold. Not only because he'd been too young, but also because of his spying duty and because of his not so pleasant nature in general. Not to mention that he didn't look too good either. No woman with the slightest sense of taste would look after him of all people!

No, they'd been together for whatever reason for and he simply had made a few too many mistakes and so Minerva had broken off, it was as simple as that.

"Snape!" He could hear Moody calling after him and he turned, waiting for the auror that – for once was on his side. He noticed that the blasted man looked particularly pleased and he wondered why. It surely wasn't because he was so very pleased to see him, Snape. There was no lost love between them and they both knew.

"I've good news, Snape." The man said the moment he had reached him.

"What?" The Potions Master couldn't resist lifting an eyebrow at the older auror. "Dumbledore has choked to death on one of his blasted lemon drops and won't bother my son anymore?"

"Even better, Snape." Moody actually grinned at him.

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He had given all of Snape's memories to Bones and he had explained to her what had happened at the hospital, that Dumbledore had abducted Potter, out of a private ward of St. Mungos, that he had cut him off medical care that was vital for his survival, that he had risked the boy's life and that he had send him back to an abusive household where he nearly had died. Well – she had been as shocked as had been he himself and she had promised that she would take matters into her hands immediately.

After that he had gone to child welfare and had pressed for the names of other Slytherins whom had been abused – with the knowledge of Dumbledore, he was sure of that, had demanded their files and he already had made a schedule as to when he would visit whom and what he would use as excuse for his visit. How benefitting it was that he was an auror – he always could search for dark objects in any Death Eater household, he thought with a smirk on his face.

And finally he had – after making sure every now and then that the situation at the hospital was under control – visited the court trial, the one in which it would be decided if Albus could go against Potter's adoption by Snape. Again he had seen the memories from Snape, and again his world had been turned upside down by the realisation that Snape not only never had been a real Death Eater but _really_ a spy for Dumbledore, and that Dumbledore on the other hand wasn't the good guy but a criminal. He always had known that Dumbledore was a hard man that didn't shy back from sacrificing people if necessary, but he never would have thought that he actually would go as far as sacrificing innocent children, to abuse his power as much as he'd had and to risk the students' – any student's – life.

Not to mention torturing them, even if just indirectly.

Well, Bones as it seemed had thought the same, because she had not only decided that Dumbledore had no say concerning Potter, now Snape, but Dumbledore's future carrier as Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry was over once and for all. He was right now on his way to Azkaban – even if he knew perfectly well that the old man never would reach his destiny. He was no fool after all, and he knew that Dumbledore wouldn't be as stupid as to _not_ have taken precautions for such an incident. He was sure that he would be free already and visiting any hiding point he had prepared beforehand, most likely since month or years.

The funny part was that he didn't even mind that Snape …

"Moody!" Snape's growl got him out of his thoughts. "For Merlin's sake, would you pay attention and come back from whatever pleasant memories you are bearing right now?"

"What?" He blinked at the dark wizard for a moment, taking in the harsh lines in his face and he suddenly noticed that those lines were lines of worry – and for a moment he blinked a second time before he gave a resigned sigh.

"Would you grant an old auror a short moment of satisfaction, Snape?" He barked back, his face going dark. He didn't want understanding Snape! And he didn't want recognizing the worry and the concern in his face. He had liked misreading the harsh face for hate better after all.

"Not if my son's safety is involved in this, you ten times blasted … you can indulge in your pleasant thoughts the moment you are at home!" Snape snapped back at him, impatiently.

"Oh, shut up, you overgrown and large-nosed dungeons bat!"

"At least I have a nose still, you ministry corrupted idiot!"

Yes, that was better, _that_ was the Snape he knew, the mean bastard he could hate easily!

"Ministry corrupted, eh?" He asked. "I better would be very careful now, Snape, because …"

"Gentlemen, please." Came a deep voice from the doorway of the room they had reached meanwhile, the room his son lay in and the Potions Master turned towards Hotaru.

"My apology, Moody." He said, turning back to the auror. "Now, what is it that is so exciting that you lost yourself in your thoughts?"

Wordlessly Moody reached a parchment towards him and he took it after a moment of hesitation, unsure of what this document would tell him and knowing that whatever Moody considered good news – it didn't mean that it would be good news for _him_ as well. Carefully he unrolled the parchment and read it through, not able to keep from smirking the moment he had finished reading it. The document clearly stated that he was Harry's father and that neither Dumbledore nor the ministry had any say in this.

"Don't misunderstand this document as too good though." He heard Moody's growl and he looked up, his frown deepening. "Dumbledore has set things in motion not even Bones had been able to prevent."

"What things exactly?" Snape asked, knowing that delaying wouldn't change anything.

"Well, Dumbledore insisted that you'd be unfit handling a disabled child and now they demand a monthly report on … your son's health – physically as well as mentally."

"At least they realize that it won't be done in a month or two or they would have demanded weekly reports." Snape sneered at the thought of the ministry demand but he knew that getting furious wouldn't change anything either.

"However." Moody continued, clearing his throat and Snape thought that the blasted auror definitely seemed – uncomfortable, sort of. "That's not the only news." He then said, reaching him a second scroll, one held together with the band of the school board and he frowned. Did they discard him? That after all was the only reason he could think of as to why the school board would address him, Snape, even if he didn't know a reason as to why.

Of course the students all complained about him, and surely not only amongst each other but during the holidays with their parents as well, he wasn't the most pleasant teacher after all. But if this was the case then surely it had been a student with a parent at the school board as no other parent would have enough influence.

Well, surely it had not been Draco or Theodore, both their fathers were on the board, and surely it wasn't Andrew either, he was in a rather close contact with the boy's father since he was here at St. Mungos after his accident. But except of those three it could have been …

"Who's lacking of concentration now?" Moody growled, getting him out of his musings and he cast a dark glance at the auror. "Take a look finally."

"I'm sure I'll be able reading it later." He snapped back, not ready to read about his discarding in front of that man. "It cannot be too important, it is not addressed to the headmaster after all."

"I beg to differ, Snape." Moody shook his head. "Not to mention that Hogwarts at the present time is without a headmaster in the first place."

At that information Snape narrowed his eyes at the other wizard, but then, while giving away a suffering sigh Snape opened the scroll and started reading – before his hands started trembling and he looked over at Moody before reading the parchment a second time.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Startling news and what to do with them?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	29. surely not!

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Who's lacking of concentration now?" Moody growled, getting him out of his musings and he cast a dark glance at the auror. "Take a look finally."_

_"I'm sure I'll be able reading it later." He snapped back, not ready to read about his discarding in front of that man. "It can't be too important, it isn't addressed to the headmaster after all."_

_"I beg to differ, Snape." Moody shook his head. "Not to mention that Hogwarts at the present time is without a headmaster in the first place."_

_At that information Snape narrowed his eyes at the other wizard, but then, while g__iving away a suffering sigh, Snape opened the scroll and started reading – before his hands started trembling and he looked over at Moody before reading the parchment a second time._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter twenty-nine **

**Surely not!**

**Monday**

It simply was impossible and he was sure that it was a joke only – but then – it was the board that had signed the scroll of parchment and it was the entire board, not to mention that the parchment held the board seal and the scroll had been held together with the band of the school board as well. So – it couldn't be a joke.

But he couldn't …

'_To Professor Severus Snape_

_Resident Potions Master at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry_

_Resident Head of Slytherin_

_Resident Healer at St. Mungos_

_Upon Professor Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, being arrested this morning and Professor Minerva McGonagall, resident Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration Teacher at the same school refusing to accept the post as Headmistress due to private reasons we have chosen Professor Severus Snape, resident Head of Slytherin and Potions Master of before mentioned school for the new Headmaster._

_Our reasons have been discussed and it has come to a collectively decision. _

_A__s the ministry of magic has no say in intern matters of Hogwarts our decision is valid._

_Please contact us within the next 24 hours and inform us of your acceptance or refusal. _

_In hopes we find you well_

_The board of governors'_

The parchment was signed with the names of each and every governor that had a seat on the school board and Snape couldn't help blinking in shock – before his face became dark.

"I refuse!" Was the first thing he said, _growled_ actually in a dangerously dark voice.

"I wouldn't make this decision so quickly if I were you, Snape." Moody said and he didn't sound surprised at his answer at all, seemed to have known this reaction would come.

"I do." Snape snapped at him, shoving the parchment back into the other wizard's hand. "I have a house to care for and I have a dying son to tend to, not to mention that I won't allow any incompetent idiot teaching those dunderheads potions or becoming the new head of Slytherin."

"You do know that as headmaster you are still a Slytherin, Snape?" Moody asked him with a smirk on his face. "Just so to remind you. You won't know what … incompetent idiot … will become the new headmaster as McGonagall refused while you had free hands not only with your Slytherins but with your son as well if you were the new headmaster. Not to mention that as the new headmaster you have a say in whom you appoint the new Potions Master and head of Slytherin post. As I said – I would not make this decision so quickly."

For a few moments Severus regarded Moody with a startled look on his face that had gone pale before he released his breath in a long sigh, leaning with his hands onto the backrest of one of the armchairs that stood in the hall.

"I won't be able taking responsibility as a headmaster while caring for my Slytherins and most importantly Harry at the same time." He then said, calmer. "And Harry is my first priority. I don't know if you realize that he will die, Moody, but he will – and it will be anything pleasant nor will he have much time. I might not be the most caring person but I won't take a post that will keep me from being there for my son."

"I hate saying this, Snape, but you do care or you not only wouldn't be here but you would take the post immediately without thinking of the Slytherins or Potter. Sorry, Snape now." Moody answered. "I don't think that it's a question of care. You should consider that you don't know who'll become the new headmaster if you refuse and with a new headmaster you might have to fight over decisions with not only the Slytherins but your son as well, fights that might take a lot of energy from you."

"Alastor is right, Severus." Minerva's voice came from behind him and for a moment he closed his eyes in frustration. He didn't even turn, somehow he had known that she would come. "Don't you think that I'd keep your back free, Severus?" The blasted woman asked. "I've kept Albus' back free and I'd do the same with you."

"Why haven't you accepted, Minerva?" He just asked, quietly.

"Because I'm not up for such a job." Minerva simply said. "You know me, Severus. I'm pretty good as the one behind the scene."

"Do you not think that I rather would have worked together with you as Headmistress than any other incompetent idiot?" He then asked, finally looking over at her, accusingly. "But you refused just like that."

"The same goes for you, Severus." Minerva huffed. "I'd rather would work together with you as Headmaster than any other – incompetent idiot. Not to mention that I've known that you've been the other candidate."

"And how so?" He couldn't help asking.

"You seem to forget that I'm friends with Molly who's on the board." Minerva answered, smirking at him and this time it was him huffing at the woman.

"Why haven't you said something earlier when we met in the garden?" He wanted to know, still accusingly.

"Dunno." Minerva shrugged at him and he growled at her for her use of such a word. Really, that woman was not only a teacher at a respectable school like Hogwarts, this woman was a head of house and she was the deputy headmistress. She really should be able using a more appropriate language than that. "But I don't think that this is important right now. Accept the post, Severus."

"Who would be the next candidate?" He asked, not willing to accept just like that. How should he manage caring for his bloody son, his infuriating Slytherins and the bloody school? It was a task impossible to manage, no one would manage. That was the reason after all as to why the headmaster wasn't a head of a house after all, but he knew that he wouldn't be able stopping to care for his Slytherins just like that. They needed him and it wouldn't even be fair … no – he would not accept that post.

"Dawlish." Minerva's answer caused him to look up and he smirked.

"Dawlish is a competent man." He said. "Let _him_ overtake the post."

"He won't." Minerva shook her head, looking at him nearly pleadingly.

"And you do know this – why, Minerva?" He asked, not liking the way she looked at him, knowing that if she looked at him like this, he barely was able saying no.

"Because I've asked him." The blasted woman said. Of course she already had asked him and he gave away a long, suffering sigh.

"And who is considered after _him_?" He drawled, his patience starting to run thin.

"Gudgeon." She said with a suffering expression on her face.

"Merlin!" He groaned. "Surely you do not mean Galvin Gudgeon, this hopeless seeker that is playing for the Chudley Cannons and who nearly had been cursed into a toad during one of his games by the fans? As a Quidditch player he isn't even able staying on his broom, for Merlin's sake!"

"Worse!" Minerva claimed and he lifted his eyebrow at her, trying to remember any other witch or wizard with the surname Gudgeon.

"Surely this won't be possible." He finally growled.

"It is, Severus." Minerva said. "It's Gladys Gudgeon."

"And who is – Gladys Gudgeon?" Severus asked, not remembering having heard that name before.

"A witch that wrote weekly fan mail to Lockhart." Minerva asked and suddenly he could understand her suffering expression.

"Just in case – who would be the next in the list?" He asked, his face dark and his words nearly a hiss.

Minerva however didn't answer him, actually averted her eyes and for a moment he frowned at the woman. It wasn't like Minerva averting her eyes, ever, and especially not in front of him – in other words, it had to be someone _really_ incompetent and idiotic.

"Minerva?" He asked, his face darkening.

"Slughorn." The woman said and Severus nearly had a fit. That couldn't be! He wouldn't accept Slughorn! This man had been his former head of house and not only was he incompetent but he also was corrupt and uncaring of the fates of his students, concerned only about his own advantage! He never would …

"Alright." He said, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Alright, I will accept the post, but mind my word, Minerva, if you leave me in the lurch, I will have your head – as a potions ingredient. I am still a Potions Master after all!"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

When Snape awoke early in the next morning, he realized that he was alone except for Hotaru and Dawlish, and the next thing he realized was that his entire body was aching with different levels of pain and bruising and for a moment he wondered why. He neither had been in a Death Eater meeting nor had he been in any other fight - at least not one that contained any reason as to why he might be I any physical pain. The only fight he'd been in lately had been the one with Dumbledore and that hadn't been a physical nor a magical fight but a verbal one only – and one he had won, he realized with some satisfaction.

Then he remembered Harry hitting him when he had touched him, after the boy had been brought back to St. Mungos. But that had been two days ago, it had been the night before he had entered Harry's mind. How could he still – remembering Harry's image within the boy's mind, remembering the bruises on the small body, bruises that had been caused while he had been living within the desert of his own mind, and for years – he realized that time and physical state followed different rules within his son's mind than they originally should.

It had been two days, three now, but the two days he'd been in Harry's mind, he couldn't count them, not this time, as it seemed. Not to mention that Harry followed different rules when it came to his strength as well as personally, he wondered how that skinny boy could hit so hard that he still felt the pain from the bruises.

The boy had hit just his shoulder after all, hadn't he?

"Actually no, Severus." Nolan quietly answered his unspoken question and he guessed that he might had given away a sound of pain when he had first moved upon waking. Blasted healer! "I have cast a few diagnostics while you have been in your son's mind and I have cast one again last night. You might not have noticed because of the strain of the situation, but your son actually fought well for himself, neary like a devil. He'd hit you a few times before you'd been able calming him. And the bruises only started healing the moment you had left Harry's mind."

"Strange." He quietly mused. "Entering someone's mind should not affect any physical experiences."

"No, it shouldn't." Nolan shook his head. "Any ideas as to what went wrong?"

"No." Snape answered. "I only can guess that Harry's mind – somehow does not work in a common pattern. Well, nothing new here, seeing that this blasted boy always deviates from the norm. Sadly I have interpreted his actions wrongly in the past – I could have been able changing the boy's life earlier and maybe prevent his death warrant."

"Do not go down this road, Severus." Nolan quietly said, placing his hand onto his shoulder and he sighed in frustration, knowing that Nolan was right but not able to keep the feelings of guilt out of his mind completely. "You are acting _now_, Severus, and only future will show you what it will bring."

"I am sure that you do know as well as I do – Harry will die." He growled quietly. "We might be able to delay this fate, but in the end – he won't have a chance."

Nolan didn't answer anything to this but tightened the grip on his shoulder for a moment to give what comfort he could before he pulled away his hand and turned, leaving the room wordlessly and leaving the Potions Master to his own thoughts.

Movement coming from the bed caused the Potions Master to look over and for a moment he wondered – would the boy really wake up? Would he be responsive? What would he remember? How would the boy react? Taking a deep breath he leaned forwards a bit, quietly watching his son's process of waking up and he lowered his head a bit to the left in concentration.

First the teen simply moved his limbs before he slowly opened his eyes and he could see reality and recognition dawning on the pale face, could see the green eyes watching him, Snape, for a moment before the boy averted them and nervously began playing with the hem of the blanket, before wincing for a moment.

"Are you in pain, Harry?" The Potions Master asked, noticing the way the boy was clutching the covers and assumed that he was suffering, but – and how could it be otherwise – Harry only shook his head before looking down at his hands.

"How have you been sleeping?" He then asked, watching the boy biting his lower lip and slowly he bent forwards and reached out to pull the lip from between the boy's teeth. Harry looked up at him unsurely before his gaze wandered to a point behind him where he guessed Nolan had re-appeared, and then he lowered his head again.

"Harry?" He asked, but the only reaction was the boy shrugging his shoulders.

Severus let his dark eyes wander over Harry before he pulled his chair closer and sat down again, laid a hand onto the blanket above Harry's leg.

"Harry, I cannot help you if you are not honest with me." He calmly said. "Please tell me, are you in pain? Have you been sleeping well? How are you?"

"At least I didn't have a nightmare for once." Harry softly answered, looking miserably and he wasn't sure if it really was the truth or if it was just general embarrassment because of talking about his sleeping problems and he sighed.

"I am glad to hear this." He said. "We however have to keep an eye on this generally, Harry. If the nightmares and sleeping problems last, we will have to do something about it. I want you to tell me when you have problems, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said, again gnawing on his bottom lip.

"And stop biting your lip or you will never catch Miss Granger's eye." The Potions Master said mockingly, again leaning forwards a bit and pulling the lip from between the boy's teeth.

"Hermione isn't interested in me." Harry said and shocked green eyes looked at the older wizard. "Merlin! Who would want … that's disgusting!"

"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Snape." Severus couldn't help teasing. "This way I do not have to fear you presenting me with grandchildren before you are of age and have finished school and apprenticeship."

Well, again the startled look that changed into a grateful one the moment the boy realized what exact meaning his words held was worth the trouble of caring for a teenager that would drive him to madness sooner than later surely.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Is it true?" The boy asked and Severus raised his eyebrow in question.

"Is what true?" He asked, not sure what the boy meant. They had talked a bit about the next school year and he had told the boy that he would have him attending classes only if he were well enough, that he would have to visit St. Mungos at least once a week and that Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster anymore. They also had talked about the adoption a bit and what it meant for both of them, for Harry as well as for him, Snape, and the teen clearly had stated that he simply was scared.

Understandable, seeing that he never had someone who had taken care of him, that he was used to caring for himself from earliest childhood on just to fail over and over again when his relatives had had so much more power over the boy who wasn't allowed using magic during his holidays and surely was no match to those adults in his life, the Dursleys starving, neglecting, abusing and even raping the child. It has been the worst for any human being to go through and so of course the boy was scared about again having an adult in his life now, an adult he had to trust, an adult that again would have power over him and that could do evil things to him.

It was nearly dark outside meanwhile and the soft light of the balls that hovered above Harry's bed gave the boy's pale face a slight violet glimmer and he wondered when the lights had changed their colour from the slight green to violet – and why. Had Harry changed them? And if yes, then why and how had he done so?

At least his worst fears had not come true and the teen was responsive, having talked to him throughout the entire afternoon, his eyes clear and not clouded anymore, his gaze meeting his instead of resting at the ceiling or a corner of the room and the boy seemed to understand what he had said.

"That … that Professor Dumbledore lied to me … I mean …"

"Yes Harry?" He asked when the boy drifted off. "Do ask your question and do not shy back just because you fear being hurt. It won't get better by avoidance."

"Know." The teen murmured, looking down at his hands. "I just mean, you see … he always kept things from me … not the way you think, but things that would've been important like with the stone and the mirror and like with the basilisk. He knew, he's been there. But he hadn't told me and … but never before had he lied to me. At least I thought so."

Taking a deep breath the Potions Master leaned forwards, leaning his elbows onto his knees and watching the boy close. He knew that Harry always had seen a grandfather figure in the headmaster and now, knowing this particular child's background, the abuse and neglect and everything else he'd been through he only could imagine how important this grandfather figure had been for the boy – and how much the old headmaster's betrayal would hurt the boy.

Of course Harry had leeched onto the first person that had shown the slightest sign of kindness and at that moment Dumbledore had had Harry where he had wanted him to mould him and to use him. The new question was, what did Harry mean with 'he's been there'? He didn't ask though, just kept this new question in mind for later thoughts.

"Yes, it is true, Harry." He quietly said, knowing how much his words would hurt the boy. "He has lied to you and he has tried forming you into the weapon he needed to be used in a war that is not yours to fight. I know how much you relied onto him and therefore I do know how much this information might hurt you, but I will not lie to you and I will not keep the truth from you either. You need to know the truth so that you can carry on with your life wisely and safely."

"Healer Nolan has drugged me, didn't he?" The boy asked and Snape frowned, casting a quick glance at the monitor hovering near the wall beside the boy.

"No, it has been me who has increased the relaxing potion." Severus said, squeezing the boy's leg where he still had his hand laying. "You have been starting to twitch earlier and so I got the relaxing potion up a bit. Are you feeling unwell?"

"Not really." The boy slowly answered, frowning. "I just thought that I should be angry at Professor Dumbledore. I mean … I've trusted him, somehow. And now … I don't know … I just … I even would _like_ being angry at him, but somehow I can't."

"I think it is fortunate that right now you can think of the situation calmly and without anger." Severus said. "There will be enough time for anger and it even will be important that you allow yourself being angry at one point or another, but for now I think it is good that you can take in the news without getting too emotional."

Harry nodded before he started laughing and then pressed his hands onto his forehead with a pain filled groan.

"What is wrong, Harry?" The Potions Master asked, his wand already in his hand and casting a diagnostic charm while he increased the pressure his other hand had on the boy's leg still.

"Nothing." The teen slowly answered, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, clearly willing the pain in his forehead the diagnostic charm showed away. "I just thought about potions and how much easier your class would be if I wouldn't get angry while being drugged. But laughing isn't such a good idea at the moment, I guess."

"Idiot child!" He growled while tucking his wand away and summoning a wet cloth. "A drugged student surely is the last thing I need in a room filled with incapable students, dangerous ingredients and unstable potions! Does that help?" He then asked, pressing the cold cloth at Harry's forehead.

"Yes, thank you." The boy murmured, even leaning into the touch and for a moment the older wizard wondered if maybe the teen already had started accepting the bond that surely was beginning to form between the two of them, but then he scowled at himself. It was too early and as the boy had been unconscious or otherwise unresponsive for most of the time – no, it surely was not the boy starting to accept the bond. It surely would take him much longer than _that_ as there barely had been enough interaction for such a thing.

"But surely potions wouldn't go out of hands so often if I wouldn't fight back upon getting angry." The blasted teen then said and he had to admit that it was true. But then – it always had been _him_ who had caused the boy's anger first and not the other way round.

"First, it never has been your fault, Harry, seeing that it has been me provoking you whenever the situation _'went out of hands'_ – what it actually never did due to my unfair handling of those situations and I do apologize for that." He said after he had taken a deep breath. Apologizing wasn't his mastery and he rarely did so, but he knew that he had to now. "You are a perfectly fine boy and the dislike I displayed towards you has never been your fault – and should never have been displayed towards you in the first place. Second, seeing that I won't teach potions in near future again, I am sure that you will be perfectly fine in this particular class – what does not mean that I will let you off the hook considering that I am a Potions Master still and surely I won't have my son lacking in this particular subject."

"What … what do you mean, sir?" The teen asked, looking at him with confusion clearly written over his face and he reminded himself that Harry had not heard the news yet – what nearly made him sigh in frustration as he still was not really willing to accept the situation so easily to begin with. "Why wouldn't you … you're not … you're not sacked because of me, are you, sir?"

"Of course not, idiot child." He growled at the startled face. "I – _unfortunately_ have become the new headmaster after Albus Dumbledore got arrested."

"You …" The boy spluttered, his eyes large while blinking stupidly at him, suddenly sitting upright in the bed. "But … how … and … whoa …"

"How very eloquent, Mr. Snape." He smirked. "Being the headmaster's son seems to be unbecoming for you, or is it such a startling thought, having the dungeons bat as the new headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"What? No!" The boy gasped, still looking with large eyes at him. "That's just …"

"Try to sleep, Harry." He calmly said when the boy again drifted off, shaking his head and he reached out to place his hand on the boy's arm. "We will talk tomorrow and I'm sure until then you'll find words. But right now you are tired and you need as much rest as you can get. So lay back down and sleep, I'll be here."

For a moment there was silence, the boy – for once – obeying and laying back down, allowing him, Snape to rearrange the blanket, but a moment later the brat huffed while shaking his head unbelieving, murmuring something into the pillow that sounded strangely like _'headmaster!'_, _'Snape!'_ and _'incredible'_. The boy's quiet words of astonishment getting quieter even before he barely could understand them – but one comment he _did_ hear – and understand – shortly before the brat fell asleep, one comment he didn't get out of his mind and never would, he was sure: _'dad's headmaster!'_

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The next morning, shortly after breakfast, Nolan came into the room with a small box of cookies and grinning like a small child at Christmas he went towards the bed and placed the box atop Harry's blanket causing the Potions Master to lift his eyebrows – what caused the blasted healer to smirk at him.

"I've brought you some cookies, Harry." He said, as if it wouldn't be obvious. "The thing is – they will taste whatever flavour you chose by just thinking of it. Try it, it's fun." Nolan said, pointing at the box before he turned to speak with him, Severus, who still kept his indifferent face despite his urge to smirk at the healer knowingly while both of them had an eye on the blasted boy who gave a startled look at them before actually reaching into the box and taking a cookie, a small smile on his pale face, and the smell of grilled chicken filling the room.

He knew those cookies and he knew exactly _why_ Nolan had brought them of course.

Harry's hands and fingers had started to heal and the boy had started moving them, successfully – and now Nolan wanted to see if the boy would be able eating by himself, gripping the – for damaged fingers at least – rather small cookies without dropping them and bringing them to his mouth, holding them tight while taking a bite of them.

Well – he just as well could have asked him, Snape, seeing that he'd had breakfast with the boy and had cut the toast into smaller pieces which Harry had – with some trouble but successfully – gripped to eat them.

Nevertheless he kept an eye on the teen, secretly watching the boy who struggled with the small cookies but kept trying until he had eaten the first one before reaching into the box and struggling to take another one, his face a mixture of concentration and happiness, slowly chewing on the blasted thing.

"I guess you will have to visit the ministry soon, Severus." Nolan said while keeping an eye on the boy as well. "We're four persons to watch Harry while you're gone, the hospital guard, that blasted auror, Master Hotaru and I, and I'm sure we'll manage keeping the boy out of trouble for an hour or two, don't you think?"

He even could hear a small hint of amusement in the bloody healer's voice and he was sure that this amusement was directed at him and his sudden over protectiveness of Harry. Well, the idiot man knew him after all, not to mention that he really barely had left the hospital since he had brought Harry here and for a moment he wondered how he, cold and tough Snape, had managed feeling so over protective.

"I am not entirely sure about _that_, but you are right, I should visit the ministry soon, yes." He quietly admitted, watching his son slowly taking another cookie and holding it clumsily between his stiff fingers while the smell in the room changed into that of a freshly baked apple pie, but he couldn't help the concern of leaving the hospital and Harry out of his sight. "I should give my consent, concerning the headmaster post and I should have a look at Prince Manor too. I have told Zilly that I need the Manor ready for a disabled teenager but I would like to make sure that the house really is ready for the boy and to add a few spells to the house to keep the – unwanted out."

"Would you like a cookie, Professor?" Harry asked, looking over at him and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"I do thank you for the offer, Harry, but surely I am no friend of sweets." He answered, content enough with simply watching the boy's smiling face while he ate those blasted cookies. "I have to leave for an hour or two to visit the ministry however. Will you be able amusing yourself alone during this time or should I ask one of the healers to entertain you while I am gone?"

"I'll manage, sir." The boy answered, looking up at him, startled, and he wasn't sure if the brat was startled because of the thought of someone else being in the room with him or because of him, Snape, leaving him alone at all. "I can stay out of trouble."

"You still have to proof _that_ yet, Mr. Snape." He answered. Was it that? Was the boy uncomfortable at him, Snape, worrying that Harry could get into trouble while being alone for an hour? Did the boy want to prove to him that he was capable of looking after himself for such a short time? Did the boy really wish for his, Snape's, approval?

"This will be your last one, young man." He simply said. "I will return as soon as possible." He added and then turned to leave, catching a small smile on Nolan's face and he scowled at the blasted healer darkly.

Still the weather out there had not changed, the sky dark and cloudy despite the late morning hours and the low hanging clouds were giving the hospital an ironic appearance since he was – for once – not in a bad mood. He had gained the papers from the ministry that Harry was his and Dumbledore couldn't do a thing about it as he was arrested. He had been offered the headmaster post and – even if he still was not sure if it really was the right thing to do – he couldn't help feeling a small tinge of pride at the thought. And last but not least – Harry had been able to grip those cookies and he had eaten them with a small smile on his pale face, the boy had even offered him one and – taking a deep breath he remembered the boy's last words before he had fallen asleep the night before: _'dad's headmaster!'_

Of course he was no fool and surely he was no overly emotional person to begin with so no, he didn't mind if the idiot child liked him or not, he didn't mind if the brat was comfortable with the knowledge of the adoption or not. He had done what he had thought had been the best for the idiot child and for all he cared the bloody boy could hate him.

And yet, he never would admit it, not even to himself, but the thought of his new son being comfortable with the arrangement and even calling him such an obnoxious, irritable and intolerable word like – _'dad'_ – it made him feeling warm, a feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time and so – yes, he was in a rather good mood this morning.

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The ministry was its usual busy place, ministry workers as well as visitors flooing in and out and hurrying along the corridors, but the Potions Master didn't mind. He went straight to the table to have his wand checked out and then he went towards the exit after he had been visiting the third floor where the head of the school board was sitting – much to the annoyance of the school board generally as they had no dealings with the ministry and therefore wouldn't be in need of an office at the ministry at all, but it had been decided that they should be present at the ministry so that parents would have it easier to visit in case of trouble.

Approaching the desk to check out his wand he suddenly stood in front of the one man he would like to strangle the most at the moment and he scowled at seeing Albus Dumbledore, flanked by two aurors while a third and fourth one guarded him from behind.

"Severus, my boy." The old man smiled at him and he stopped his steps, looking at the former headmaster.

"It is Professor Snape to you, Dumbledore." He growled darkly. "Or is your old brain not able to remember a simple instruction?"

"I know that you're still angry with me, but don't you think that it is in the Order's best interests if we put such anger aside and work together? It is your son's future that is at stake, after all."

"You better leave my son out of this, Dumbledore!" He hissed angrily. "Harry's future is to safely growing up into an adult, not as a weapon waiting to serve its purpose. Not to mention that – as to my knowledge – the order won't have any more dealings with you anyway."

"Severus, you cannot deny that even if this prophecy is nonsense, Voldemort believes that it is true. Harry will continue to be a target as long as Voldemort lives."

"I will be able protecting him, and I will battle the Dark Lord personally if I must." Severus' voice was low and icy as he leaned closer towards the old wizard. "I have not seen _you_ doing anything except of positioning a child to fight an adults' war."

"It is Harry's destiny, Severus." Dumbledore sighed. "He is the saviour of the wizarding world and he always will be that."

"What reason do you have to still thinking Harry would even _want_ to save the world, never mind if wizarding or muggle?" Severus asked quietly but his dark eyes blazed with concealed anger.

"What exactly do you mean with that?" Dumbledore asked back, his old face showing confusion.

"You cannot think of an answer to that?" He sneered at the man. "You are supposed to be all knowing after all, the greatest wizard of all times! But let me answer your question – why would the boy want to save a world that he had only known pain in? Why would he want to save a world that he believed no one loved him in? Harry has no love for this world anymore, old man, your plan backfired. You have been planning on damaging the child so that he gladly would come into your open arms for support and for comfort and to then do all your orders – but you have been damaging this boy _so much_ that he thinks of himself being so worthless that he even does not care about leaving this world. He does not want to stay in it, he wants to die and he is not ready to fight for his life anymore."

Severus looked at Dumbledore, all respect for the man gone, but he couldn't help noticing the small but satisfied smile that grazed the old man's lips and he sneered in disgust.

"Harry will stay with me at my manor and you will not interfere with him anymore. He is not your puppet. If you want the Dark Lord dead so much, then do it yourself. You are supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world after all."

"Listen, Severus, I know you mean well, but this is not your call." The older wizard said with a tone of angry authority.

"Actually, it is." Severus said before holding up the document he'd held in his hand thus far.

"What's this?" Dumbledore asked and the Potions Master knew that he already guessed the answer – and didn't like it.

"These are the legal documents naming me as Harry Snape's lawful father." He smirked, leaning back finally and giving the old man space. "And now you may excuse me as I am currently on my way back to my son after visiting the school board for acceptance of the post as the new headmaster of Hogwarts." He then added, casting one last and cold but satisfied glance by himself at the stunned Dumbledore before turning and then exiting the ministry before turning and apparating the hospital to see his son where he surely would have a close eye on the boy after he had left him alone for nearly two hours, leaving a frowning Dumbledore behind.

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It was more than an hour later and he had taken the book Snape had started reading to him a few days ago, but he hadn't been able to really continue at that particular thought. Snape.

Snape was the new headmaster now. Snape was his father now. Snape was a healer here at St. Mungos too. Was there anything about Snape that was – simply Snape? Except of his dark appearance and his cold demeanour of course? And except of the always unreadable face and stance of course? So many things had changed within such a short time and somehow he didn't know where to begin sorting it out. Snape definitely was his father, that much he knew, but he didn't know what this meant for him and his future.

Of course the man had cared for him since – well, since he'd had taken him from Privet Drive. And yes, the man even had been gentle and kind somehow – at least for his standards. Merlin, even for anyone's standard! Heck, Snape even had held him a few times by now! But what did it mean for his future? Would Snape revert to the old Snape the moment they were back at Hogwarts? How would it be, living with that man who hated him and who surely would berate him all day? How …

He knew that it wouldn't be as worse as with the Dursleys, he knew that. Snape neither would starve him nor would he beat him, he knew that. He surely wouldn't … no, surely not. But …

A loud racket coming from the hall got him out of his worries and musings and a moment later the doors to his room swung open and a handful of reporters ran in. Cameras were flashing wildly and people were jostling to get closer to him, all the while yelling out questions.

"So is it true, Mr. Potter, and you really got abused by your family?" One was asking and he blinked at the man in shock.

"How come you didn't hex them into oblivion?" Another one asked and he wanted nothing else than laughing at the man. How could he have hexed them into oblivion if he was at the restriction during the summer holidays? But he was too shocked to laugh.

"Who are you staying with now?" Came the next question and he wasn't able to even concentrate to understand it clearly. "Is it true that you're staying with Severus Snape? Death Eater to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Has he already started training you for the dark arts to …"

He wasn't able listening any longer when someone grabbed his head and turned his face so that he had to look at the cameras while someone else pulled at him to look into yet another direction, all the while questions over questions being yelled at him, the lights of the cameras nearly blinding him.

He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't do _anything_ and the moment another hand reached out, grabbing for him and only reaching his hair, yanking his head into yet another direction for a picture his mind went back to the time and place where uncle Vernon had pulled him along the corridor, up the stairs and into his room by his hair for yet another beating and another moment later the panic had gripped him in a grasp that robbed him off his breath.

He started looking for Snape, trying to get his head free so that he could turn and search for the dark wizard that had become his father but he couldn't move his head without the pain becoming worse and he didn't find the Potions Master. Why was he alone again? And where was Snape? Why had Snape gone away and where … he couldn't remember while at the same time flashbacks of his uncle yanking his hair and beating him forced themselves into the front of his mind and suddenly he didn't know what to do anymore, couldn't help starting to scream himself – maybe just so that someone would hear him and come for help, maybe just so that he would startle them into leaving him alone, he didn't know.

The moment the door had been thrown open by the reporters the auror who had been sitting in a corner so far had started ordering them out of course but no one had listened and the moment he had started casting spells at the people, all the while cursing under his breath, the idiot photographer who had grabbed the boy's hair yanked his head around again and suddenly the teen started screaming, a sound that surely he didn't want hearing ever again in his life and he doubled his efforts, started casting more nasty hexes at them, ignoring the hexes some of them cast back at him.

Merlin, Snape would kill him, he was sure of that, but he was outnumbered by twelve to one and the only thing he could do was keeping up the fight and hoping that Healer Nolan and this Hotaru guy would come back from Nolan's office soon. The next thing he realized was a loud blast coming from the door, and a deep and velvet voice yelling at the reporters to get out and he nearly sighed a breath of relief.

Severus came along the corridor, already hearing the racket going on in the room that was his son's and he broke into a run, just to arrive in the doorway the moment chaos broke loose.

At least a dozen reporters were yelling questions into the direction where he only could guess his son lay on the bed as they were blocking his view completely, the auror that was to watch his son and keep him save was casting hexes over hexes at the reporters who only mildly were impressed by them and even cast some of their owns back at Savage and he immediately drew his own wand. A moment later however he could hear Harry starting to scream in pure terror and his blood froze. Without thinking he cast a blasting curse into the room just the moment Hotaru came running along the corridor, Nolan close at his heals.

And suddenly, from one moment to the other there was silence in the room except for the terrified screams of his son and all eyes went to the menacing looking wizard that was seething with rage and fury.

"Get out!" He yelled, barely able to control his fury while he took a step closer at them. "Get out! _Now!_"

A second later already one by one of the reporters hurried away from the bed, the photographer who had pulled Harry's hair making a wide circle around Snape while looking extremely nervous and he barely was able controlling himself enough to keep from casting the strongest stinging hex possible at that man. He would have their hides later, he swore, but right now he had to get to his son who still was sitting in the bed, his hands clutching the front of his own T-shirt and pulling at the fabric as if it would keep him from breathing and quickly he rushed over to the bed, his face darkening as he looked down at his son.

The boy was still screaming in pure terror, the screams only slowly getting quieter while he started rocking back and forth on the bed, shaking uncontrollably and he gently placed a hand onto the boy's shoulder to get his attention – to have the boy yanking his shoulder away, his rocking movements increasing and he was shocked at the soaked fabric he could feel beneath his fingers when he tightened the grip on his son's shoulder.

Merlin! Could this child never catch a break? Hadn't that brat been through enough already? Who had told those blasted reporters that the boy even was here? Who had let them in and why had Savage been the only one watching Harry? Where had the hospital guard been? And where had Nolan and Hotaru been? He had been sure that he had left his son in responsible hands and he was so angry at himself for leaving – but even more at Nolan for leaving Harry alone.

Sitting onto the bed, just like he had done while he had been in Harry's mind, he gathered the small figure of his son into his arms and wrapped his arms around the boy in a tight grip, thus effectively stopping the boy's rocking motions and even if the terrified screams intensified for a moment, they soon stopped completely when his son seemed to come back to reality and sagged weakly against his chest while he over and over ran his hand through the dripping wet hair of the boy, whispering quiet words into the boy's ear to calm him further.

Only one look at Nolan and Hotaru was enough to know that both men knew – they would have to face his wrath the moment he had his son calm again and quickly the healer went over to the monitor and placed his hand at the equipment, adding a calming potion to the mix of potions that was already running through the child's system.

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**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_An angry Potions Master and a new decision … _

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	30. I'll take him home

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holidays after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_Sitting onto the bed, just like he had done while he had been in Harry's mind, he gathered the small figure of his son into his arms and wrapped his arms around the boy in a tight grip, thus effectively stopping the boy's rocking motions and even if the terrified screams intensified for a moment, they soon stopped completely when his son seemed to come back to reality and sagged weakly against his chest while he over and over ran his hand through the dripping wet hair of the boy, whispering quiet words into the boy's ear to calm him further._

_Only one look at Nolan and Hotaru was enough to know that both men knew – they would have to face his wrath the moment he had his son calm again and quickly the healer went over to the monitor and placed his hand at the equipment, adding a calming potion to the mix of potions that was already running through the child's system._

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter thirty **

**I'll take him home!**

**Tuesday**

"Care to explain as to _where_ exactly you have been, Nolan, and as to _why_ exactly my son has been alone in this room with a horde of a dozen of reporters?" He asked, ignoring Master Hotaru who was standing beside the healer, a frown on his face while dark eyes pierced the room – and its occupants - sharply.

Master Hotaru was one thing, he might have offered his help and he might – strangely as it was – know something he, Severus, didn't, but Hotaru was not in responsibility of his son. Nolan however had been, as had been the guards at the door and Savage who right now was getting several severe burns healed by another healer while he refused to leave the room, refused to even put away his wand – and he scowled.

He surely couldn't blame the auror, never mind his general relationship he had with them – but he could, and did, blame _Nolan_.

"I have been in my office for a moment, Severus, together with Master Hotaru, to discuss how this method of him could possibly best save Harry's life." The healer answered. "We have thought that an auror in his room and two guards beside his door would be enough to leave him alone for a few minutes."

"Apparently not." The Potions Master drawled, feeling more than just irritated at the situation and he turned the body of his now sleeping son at its side, knowing that Harry would sleep better that way – and to give himself a moment to get his emotions back under control before he would say something irreversible – before he straightened back up to face the healer. "This discussion of yours could not have been held without leaving this room and therefore the patient you were responsible for alone?"

"Considering that you have _not_ told your son yet that he will die – and rather soon – I believe that no, it would not have been one of the best ideas doing so." Nolan said in a mixture of defending himself and blaming Severus. "I am sure that this bit of information he should _not_ receive without your presence."

"Sometimes I wonder if you are aware of the fact that you indeed are a _wizard_, Mr. Malfoy, considering that you seemingly never ever heard of silencing or privacy spells." The Potions Master growled darkly.

"You do know as well as do I, that too much magic used in a room occupied by a patient that is monitored is not a very good idea, Severus!" Nolan shot back, getting angry himself. He had done what he had thought was best, for Merlin's sake! What else should he have done? They _had_ to plan the next courses of action after all, they didn't have too much time, not if they wished to keep Severus' son alive as long as possible. "It only would interfere with the monitors and even the medication could be affected. Would you really risk that?"

"Would another hour until I had been back here have been too long to wait?" The Potions Master growled, darkly.

"No, but what exactly had _you_ done then?" Nolan shot back. "Would you have missed this conversation and stayed with Harry, what I highly doubt? Or would you have accompanied us to the office to partake in the conversation and left your son alone for a few minutes like we did?"

"_I_ would have made sure first that the guards outside that door were _on duty_!" Severus raised his voice by now.

"I have made sure that they were there!" Nolan too now nearly yelled. "I'm _not_ completely stupid and irresponsible after all!"

"Then explain to me _how_ those bloody reporters managed to get into _my son's room_!"

"_I don't know_."

"Then you better think because it has been _my son who_ …"

"Please …" Came a small voice from behind and he sharply turned to see said son of his sitting on the bed, his face pale and his eyes wide, shaking like a leave in the wind, and he took a deep breath. It surely had not been his intention to wake the boy – nor to startle him.

"I apologize." He said after taking a deep breath to calm himself, turning towards the boy and slowly taking a few steps to the bed until he was close enough to reach out his hand. "It never has been my intention to wake you and surely not to startle you, child." He then added while placing his hand atop the quivering shoulder, his dark eyes piercing the green and startled ones and for a moment he actually and consciously felt not only the worry over the boy like he had done constantly lately, but he also felt – affection. He didn't look away, but held the boy's, his son's gaze, only bringing up his occlumency shields to hide his emotions behind them.

"We will leave St. Mungo's soon, child." He then continued. "I think that you will be safer at home and it makes no difference where you are as long as you are getting your medication. I will prepare your release from hospital, why do you not try to sleep a bit more or at least try to rest and read in this infernal book of yours until my return."

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"Are you sure that this is a wise decision, Severus?" Nolan asked nearly an hour later, worry etched on his face. "Harry is far from being well enough for being released and what will you do in case of a relapse?"

"I will handle the situation as we would here." Severus answered, calmly. He soon had calmed down the moment he had been in front of Harry, looking into those blasted, startled and scared, green eyes of the boy. He had not meant to raise his voice in the child's presence, knowing what kind of memories it surely must wake, but his temper had taken the upper hand of him, something Lily often had complained about.

It had gotten better with the years, after he had learned the art of occlumency, had learned to keep his emotions behind his occlumency shields, to sort his mind and to control his temper, it had been vital to learn that or he wouldn't have survived a week as a spy. And to lose his temper now – it had been startling, he had to admit that. And to lose his temper over worrying and trying to protect his son no less – it was … strange. Did he really care that much about the boy?

"I have already spoken to healer Smith." He said after taking a deep breath. "And at the present time healer Anson and Zilly are about to set up the monitors in Harry's room at Prince Manor. I will not risk anything, Nolan, and my son is not safe here at St. Mungos. Not while Albus still seems to have one or another influence on either the ministry or publicity. You have heard the chief guard, Nolan. Epson and Holder are gone, they have vanished and we are sure that they – one way or another – have been influenced by Dumbledore somehow to let the press in. I will not risk anything with Harry. Nolan. I will take him home tonight and that is final."

"I do understand your reasoning and your worries, Severus, but what if he has a relapse?" Nolan angrily asked. "What will you do then? It's been irresponsible from Smith to agree on releasing the boy!"

"I will do the same I would do here, Nolan." The Potions Master calmly said. "With the exception that it is in a different environment that at least however promises safety for my son – and therefore surely less attacks or similar."

"You will call me the moment Harry has an attack or anything similar!" Nolan growled defeated but his voice made clear that at least on this point he wouldn't argue.

The Potions Master looked at the healer for a moment – unsure if the other wizard really meant it and unsure if he really should – or could – take the offer. But then he shortly inclined his head and turned to go back into his son's room, thinking. If anyone would ever have told him that he at one point or another would have a son – he surely would have done the unthinkable and would have laughed. If anyone would ever have told him that he at one point or another even would care and worry for his son the way he felt he did right now – he surely would have committed this person to the mental ward at St. Mungos. And if anyone would ever have told him that this son of his would be Harry Bloody Potter – he would have killed either this person or himself, just to end a mental disease quickly and without suffering needlessly.

But as it was – here he was, not only having a son but this son of his being Harry Potter, now Snape, and here he was, caring about and worrying over said boy, his son, like he never before had cared about someone else in his life. Not even Lily, he suddenly realized, had been as important to him as –

As was this child actually and for a moment he had to sit down at that realization.

Someone being more important than Lily had been? And child no less being more important than Lily had been? And this child being – Merlin! The boy who lived! How in Merlin's name had it come to that? What had happened? He didn't understand it … never before had anything or anyone been more important than Lily had been! Absolutely never before. Not even his own life had ever been more important to him than Lily had been! How had this happened? What had happened? How had he ...

He _never_ had cared!

He _never_ had worried to such an extent!

He …

He was a _Death Eater_! A dark man! A _cold_ man! He …

How …

"Professor Snape?" Came a soft voice from his left, a voice that sounded hesitant and unsure and he slowly turned his head into the direction the soft voice came from, still being in a daze of some kind and he barely realized himself lifting his eyebrow at the boy that stood there, the small hand touching his shoulder as if Andrew had been about to shake him and he frowned.

"Yes, Andrew?" He asked the boy, his voice sounding strangely hollow.

"You ok, sir?" The now second year Ravenclaw asked softly and he nodded.

"I am, child." He said, taking a deep breath and bringing his own hand up to take the boy's into his. "I am just a bit confused, I have to admit that." And again he frowned about himself while he started massaging the boy's damaged hand, moving the fingers and feeling for reactions. Since when did he share private feelings about anything with anyone? And a student no less?

"Why?" The boy curiously asked and as strange as it was – the boy's curiosity didn't irk him as it normally would. Had Potter really made him soft? But no – he had always gotten along with the children here at St. Mungos. Maybe he simply did have the wrong job. He never should have started trying to teach them, he should have started to heal them from the beginning on. He should have started here at St. Mungos from the beginning on and – but well, that was a mute point now, really. He had Harry. And he was the new headmaster of Hogwarts. He …

"That is not easily explained, Andrew." He sighed. "Something happened that – had overbalanced me for a moment."

"_What_ happened?" The boy again curiously asked and for another moment he wondered – how was it that those children here, even if they were students from Hogwarts who _knew_ him, dared asking him such personal questions without fearing he would cut them into potions ingredients. They never would dare asking him such questions at Hogwarts. They never even would care about anything concerning his personal life at Hogwarts. At Hogwarts they would flee him the moment he just entered a corridor, a classroom or the great hall. But here? His reputation did not hold here, as it seemed.

"I got a child." He calmly said, again wondering why he so openly admitted such a thing. He didn't even know how it was that he threw all caution out of the window – if the boy told others and the Dark Lord heard of that … but then, on the other hand – hadn't he promised that he would be there for the boy? That he would stop spying on the Dark Lord so that he could be there for his son? Had he not made a promise already? Did he even care?

No – right now the only thing he cared about was that boy, his son.

"But that's great." Andrew's words got him out of his thoughts again and he looked into the child's happy face. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Well, this time the Potions Master couldn't help laughing and he ran his hand through the boy's hair.

"I got a boy, Andrew." He then chuckled. "A fourteen year old boy."

"Merlin!" The twelve year old gasped. "How did _this_ happen, sir?"

"That is a question, Andrew, I am not sure I should answer you." He then said, still chuckling while he at the same time felt the heavy weight of the boy's near death on his shoulders. "I am however not used to the new situation yet and so – I do feel a bit unsettled from time to time."

"Because of your reputation at Hogwarts?" The boy openly asked and he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"Give me your other hand, Andrew." He said, sighing and taking the boy's other hand. It wasn't really damaged like the boy's right hand, but Andrew now had to learn doing things with his left hand and he had to build up strength in this hand – what surely was a great deal of work ending up in sore muscles.

"Partly because of my reputation." He said while massaging the boy's left hand to loosen stiff muscles. "But not just because of that. Many things have changed during the past few weeks, Andrew, and you surely will have to get used to a few alterations upon your return to Hogwarts in September. But it also is because I am not used to being a father. Merlin! Can you imagine – the evil dungeons bat, being a father!" He huffed for a moment at the snicker Andrew gave away at his words. "You may laugh, Mr. Doughan – remember that the health of _your_ hand lies in _my_ hand. I am simply not used to worrying that much over – a teenager."

"But that's normal." The boy said, shrugging his shoulders and apparently not understanding where the problem was. "That's what parents do. And children worry their parents, that's what children do."

Frowning he released the boy's hand and looked into blue eyes. A simple answer from a child – and yet, it held so much more than what he had thought of, what he had imagined possible. And it was a true answer. Because – yes, parents worried over their children and children worried their parents. It was as simply as that. And it had been a twelve year old child who had made this clear to him.

"Yes, apparently." He quietly said, pulling the boy close for a moment and startling him in the act. It wasn't everyday after all that you got a hug from the Potions Professor Severus Snape. "I do thank you for opening an old man's eyes with your childish view of things." He then said. "And now run along, Andrew."

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

The soft sound of shoes touching the stone floor with even and light steps, coming closer, echoed through the room until they halted beside the bed a black haired teenager lay in, sleeping, just like the Potions Master had suggested a few hours ago. Snape placed the black leather bag he had slung over his shoulder and the travelling cloak he had draped over his left arm onto the foot of the bed and then sat down onto the edge of the mattress, reaching out to touch the boy's shoulder, gently shaking him. He had to tighten his grip the moment the brat started fighting him, scared and startled upon being woken and he softly told him that everything was alright, that he was safe and that he wouldn't be hurt – an action he had gotten strangely used to with this child by now.

A moment later however, upon coming back to reality, the boy squeezed his eyes shut against the offending light and from the way he scrunched his eyes he was sure that there was a headache raging behind the pale forehead. Another moment later the blasted brat rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over his head.

"Harry." Severus quietly said, keeping his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Go 'way." The idiot boy grumbled, already drifting back to sleep where it was dark and silence and where he wouldn't have to listen to him, Snape, the bad guy in this story. Well, he definitely wasn't sure if he should be glad that the boy seemed to trust him enough to mumble something like _'__go__ '__way__'_ what he surely wouldn't have done a few weeks ago, or if he should be angry at the boy for telling him to go away to begin with – not to mention that the boy surely wasn't even aware of what he'd mumbled just a moment ago.

"It is time to wake up." He simply said while pulling the blanket from the boy's head, narrowing his eyes at the still stiff and swollen fingers the boy tried to keep a clumsy hold at the blanket with – unsuccessfully.

"Don' wanna." The boy mumbled, trying to burrow further into his cocoon of blankets and he sighed. Of course did the boy try to stay within those blankets. They were warm and comfortable after all, more than one warming charm having been cast at them lately and considering that the boy still was unable keeping up his own body warmth – it was as if trying to get a snake from out of its warm tank. But they had to leave and he surely couldn't take the boy through the hospital while being wrapped in his blankets, not to mention that the boy had to get dressed lest he wished to go through the hospital corridors in his pyjamas – and so he cancelled the warming spells and cast a cool breath instead – causing Harry to crack open one eye while peaking out from under the blanket.

"That's mean." The boy mumbled, accusingly. "Just one hour more."

"You have said that already an hour ago." The Potions Master said, a smirk on his face, knowing that the boy was about to regret having become the son of the meanest teacher of all Hogwarts.

"I did?" The boy asked, causing Snape to lift his eyebrow and to wonder if the idiot child didn't remember waking up an hour ago. "Just one more hour then? Please?"

"Not unless you wish to remain in hospital well past dinner." He smirked, knowing that this surely was not in the boy's intention. He often enough had heard Poppy complaining about "Potter" who was as bad as a patient as was he, Snape.

"Oh …" Harry made, pulling the blanket down and trying to sit up, wincing, before he fell back onto the mattress.

"Do not sit up yet." Severus said, moving his hand from Harry's shoulder to his chest to keep him from getting up completely. "What is the problem?"

"Nothing." The boy immediately said and he lifted his eyebrow at the teen, clearly not believing him a word.

"Mr. Snape!" He growled at the boy who looked up at him, startled for a moment.

"Just my back hurts – a bit." The teen then admitted and he, Snape, gave a nod of approval at the teen's admittance.

"Does it hurt or is it merely sore?" The Potions Master asked, his eyes narrowed at the teen, his traitorous hand slowly reaching out to lightly brush through the boy's hair and again he didn't know if he should feel happy at the boy hesitantly leaning into the touch or if he should feel – what? Annoyed? Scared? He didn't know and he took a deep breath to calm his own nerves.

"Just sore." Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment and basking in the comfort Snape offered, having to take a deep breath to keep from _hitching_ a breath. If he had to go back home now, then he would take whatever he could get before that so he at least had something to remember, something that would keep him sane while he tried to survive at the Dursleys. He would take whatever comfort he could get before that.

"It would be pointless massaging your back right now, child." Snape said and there it was again, the term _'__child__'_. Merlin, he knew that maybe he should feel angry at the man always calling him a child, but he wasn't, he _couldn__'__t_. Snape had been the only one ever who acknowledged that he _was_ a child. Everyone else expected of him things one would expect of adults, but not Snape. So – why should he feel angry at Snape calling him child? It felt good being a child for once after all. And he surely could need any memory of feeling good at the Dursleys as there would be no chance of such at their household ever. And surely not after he'd been missed for only Merlin knew how long.

"Come now." The older wizard said, pulling his hand back and he immediately could feel the loss that nearly made him cry with disappointment. Why couldn't such moments last forever, damn! He didn't want to go back! He didn't want to leave St. Mungos and he didn't want to leave Snape! Snape had promised! He had …

Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down, knowing that it wouldn't do any good loosing his temper, neither here nor at the Dursleys. It simply was the way it was and he would have to deal with it, like always. It was what he was best at after all, wasn't it? To deal with what came his way and to somehow survive.

"Time to get up." Snape said, holding out his free hand and looking up he could see the man peering down at him. He took the man's offered hand and was pulled to the edge of the bed where Snape placed a hand onto his shoulder to keep him from getting up completely – that at least was what he thought – but honestly, the older wizard hadn't needed doing so. He wouldn't have been able getting off the bed right now, at least not without finding himself down there on the floor, and he wondered what was wrong now while dizziness exploded before his eyes, within his head, his stomach, and he automatically tightened his grip on Snape's hand, his arm, whatever it was he could hold onto.

He'd known that the boy would have troubles getting up after two weeks in bed, first at Prince Manor and then at St. Mungos. It had been Sunday, the sixteenth of July when he had taken the boy from the Dursleys and now it was Saturday, the thirtieth of July. And the boy barely had left the bed since then and surely not at all since the last nine days, since he was here at St. Mungos.

"Are you alright?" He asked when the boy blinked to get the dizziness to pass and a moment later the teen nodded.

"'M fine." Came the verbal answer and he snorted for a moment. He even could _hear_ the strain in the boy's voice, he didn't even have to look at the boy's pale face.

"The chance of you being fine ever is as slim as are your limbs, Mr. Snape." He drawled. "You seem to collect one trouble or another as obsessively as others might collect wizarding cards."

"Not fair." The blasted brat murmured.

"No, it is not." He softly admitted, reaching out a t-shirt to the boy who looked up at him startled before looking at the t-shirt and then back up at him.

"I have already seen you without clothes more than once, Harry." He softly said, his dark eyes expressionless on the boy who seemed already embarrassed enough without him playing an emotional fool. The boy hesitated for another moment before taking the shirt and placing it at the bed beside him. He cast another unsure glance at him before getting off his pyjama top and then quickly slipping into the t-shirt as if being ashamed of being seen without clothes and Snape sighed. Getting the boy to change his pyjama trousers into the Jeans he had brought could get funny.

A moment later he held out the Jeans as well and again the boy took it after another unsure glance at him, placed it at the bed beside him, but he made no move to change at all.

"If you think that I will leave you alone right now, then you are very much mistaken, Mr. Snape." He said, his voice as emotionless as his dark eyes. "You barely are able to sit without being dizzy, let alone stand, of that I am sure. Not to mention that I have seen you without trousers as well or how do you think I have healed your body below your waist."

But well, it didn't work as easily this time as it had last time with the t-shirt and he knew that words alone would not be enough, he would need actions as well, and so he gently started pulling the boy up at his arm, encouraging him to try and stand after he had let him sitting there for several moments to regain back control over his dizziness – and embarrassment.

The boy moved, slipping down the bed and hissing sharply the moment his feet touched the floor and he stood on his legs, and he again frowned. He could understand that the teen felt dizzy after having laid in bed for so long, after all the injuries and after how weak he still was. He also could understand that the boy was simply weak and that he would have troubles with his first steps, the boy had nothing on his bones after all. But he did not really understand why the boy would be in pain upon standing and he knew that it definitely _had_ _been_ a hiss of pain his son had given away. The question was – why? The diagnostics he had cast had shown all the injuries on the boy's body and he had healed all of them.

The boy's grip on his arm tightening desperately and he looked down to see his son gritting his teeth while tears were clearly glittering in the boy's eyes.

"What is wrong, Harry?" He softly asked, trying to sound calm while he didn't feel calm at all.

"Dunno." The boy said, hissed out actually and he still had not ceased his death-like grip he had on his arm, clearly showing him that the brat not only was in pain but still felt dizzy as well, maybe even caused by the intensity of the pain the boy seemed to be in and he simply cast a quick diagnostic as he surely wouldn't get an answer from the boy himself.

A moment later he took a deep breath of relief.

It was just the boy's legs cramping with the force of having to stand and carry his weight suddenly – as small as his weight was, and tightening his grip on the boy he reached with his free hand for his wand and waved it at the monitor, adding to the muscle relaxer that already ran through the boy's system, increasing the dose for a moment, while he at the same time pushed the boy back onto the bed – after he had wordlessly pulled down the pyjama trousers, remembering one particular sentence a boy named justharry had written to the Darkmaster.

_**justharry**: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

He ignored the blush on the teen's face as well as the startled look and summoned a chair close to sit down, started massaging the thin legs until he felt the boy's muscles stopping their cramping, not relaxing entirely and he guessed that he surely wouldn't relax at all while the boy was undressed in front of him. So he just as wordlessly took the Jeans from the foot of the bed and slipped the fabric over the boy's legs, knowing that the teen would be too stunned for doing so himself right now.

_**justharry**: *shrugginshoulders* … well, ok, I admit it, I fear him … happy now?_

Still wordlessly he pulled the teen up from the bed again and with just as quick movements he had him dressed completely, only his shoes missing and he was sure that the boy would need no help with _them_ – after he had come out of his daze that was. Without commenting anything that just now had happened and surely had startled the boy out of his wits he took the glass of water from the nightstand and reached it towards his son who took it with a trembling hand and clumsily held it in his stiff fingers, taking a grateful sip of the cold water. Merlin, this surely would have been easier if he could use a bit more magic on the child, but with his magical core as instable as it was right now – he didn't dare risking anything. And honestly, he rather had the boy feeling embarrassed – and scared – but alive instead of dead or dying.

"Are you ready to leave?" He asked after the teen had slipped into the shoes he had reached him, his voice still quiet and calm but nevertheless causing the boy to actually flinch at his voice before still startling green eyes met his, but the teen nodded. "Alright, then come along." He said, taking the black leather bag over his shoulder and placing the black cloak over the boy's shoulders before gently and slowly leading him out of the room he had occupied for the past nine days.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Nice to see you out of bed, Harry." Nolan greeted the boy and Severus lifted his eyebrow, knowing what the healer really thought. "As long as you won't overdo it. Why don't you sit down so that we can discuss a few last things before your father may take you home?"

The boy sullenly shrugged, averting his eyes and the Potions Master frowned, noticing that the boy's willingness to converse was not really existent today.

"Harry?" He quietly asked while gently seating the boy onto one of the chairs – where he sat at the edge of the seat as if too much contact with the furniture would hurt him.

"Dunno." The boy said, the second time this afternoon he did so.

"I would appreciate an answer, Mr. Snape, as I am sure you do know very well what is wrong." He said, forcing his annoyance down.

"Maybe it's better if I stay here anyway." The idiot child softly said, his eyes still averted.

"Would you really like to make it so easy for your father, Harry?" Nolan asked, leaning back in his own chair. "You've done a very good job during the last few days and now it's your father's turn to do _his_ job." He then added with a smirk at him, Severus, and he huffed at the blasted healer. Leave it to Nolan, trying to get the boy's mood up in going against him, Severus.

"Have done nothing." The boy mumbled, still not looking at any of them.

"You've stayed alive, haven't you?" The healer then said, frowning and casting a questioning glance at the Potions Master who lifted his eyebrow back at the other wizard. He didn't know where the boy's problem lay. One should think that he would be overly glad leaving the hospital, but now – as it seemed he really wished to stay here.

"Great." The boy said and Nolan's frown deepened.

"Considering the state you have been in when your father brought you here – then yes, it actually _is_ great." The blond man said. "You have been knocking at death door, and more than once."

"So what?" The boy asked, whispered, but he heard it nevertheless and he grabbed his son's chin, turned the pale face towards him.

"What was that, Harry?" He asked, his voice very serious now and he couldn't help the anger that started rising.

"There might be still much more to struggle through, Harry, yes." Nolan said, but Severus was sure that this was not the idiot brat's problem right now. There was more, he actually could feel it. "But your father will help you with this, you won't be alone. Important only is, that you allow him to help you."

The boy tried to turn his head aside, clearly not wanting to face anyone, but he kept hold on Harry's chin – only to have the boy simply averting his eyes by looking down at his shoes.

"Wanna go back to my room." The idiot child mumbled in a small and defeated voice, the small body starting to tremble and he didn't even hear the healer's "why?", while tears welled up in those green eyes. "Please … don' wanna go back to the … you promised … don' …"

And suddenly he understood.

"You will never go back _there_, Mr. Snape!" He darkly growled at the boy while lifting the pale face so that his son _had_ to look at him. Had his son learned nothing over the past few days? Had he not started believing him finally? Had he not adopted him? Had he not made it clear that he never would go back there? Had he not … "You _absolutely __never_ will go back there, you idiot child! You are my son and you will go _home_ with me. Do you really think I would have _my son_ being raised by _those_ incompetent and abusive relatives your mother and you had the _misfortune_ to call a sister or rather an aunt – and _uncle_? Did you _really_ think that I would be shipping you off tonight, now that you are released from hospital? Have you _not_ been with me at Prince Manor before I have brought you here? I have _adopted_ you, you idiot child! You are _my son_! And Prince Manor will be _your home_! Get this in this _stubborn_ head of yours!"

A moment later – he had a desperately sobbing thirteen, soon to be fourteen year old teenager in his arms, clinging to him like to a lifeline and with a heavy sigh he folded his arms around the small body, holding the shaking form close.

"A calming draught?" Nolan softly asked and he cast a quick glance at the healer, shaking his head. That wouldn't be necessary. And not appropriate either. It surely was more important for that particular child to release his emotions. He had bottled them up for long enough and as much as he hated emotional outbursts – he knew that they were necessary, especially with children and teenagers. The boy would be all embarrassed about it later and that would be his, Snape's, satisfaction then.

But until then – having to deal with an overly emotional and crying teenager clinging to him and having his robes gotten wet with snot and other bodily fluids like tears, would have to do – in hopes that the boy would _not_ cry himself out and to sleep, like he had done last time.

"What is your favourite kind of furniture?" He asked, just to have anything that would not only keep the boy from falling asleep while crying but to distract him as well.

It took the bloody brat some time until he was able to answer his question with a soft "bed" but he got an answer and he leaned back in his own chair, pulling the boy closer and trying to relax himself until he felt the boy resting against his slowly rising and falling chest, relaxing as well, while his sobs slowly but surely subsided.

"It is your turn, Harry." He quietly said, scowling at Nolan when the blond healer smirked at him.

"'S 'k." The bloody boy murmured, shaking his head. "'M sorry."

"There is still no need to apologize for a simple emotional breakdown." He growled. "Do you finally understand that you will _not_ go back to those blasted relatives of yours?" He then asked, scowling down at the boy who gave an embarrassed nod away.

"Yes, sir." The boy said after he had lifted his eyebrow at the brat.

"Good." He still growled. "And do you also finally understand that if I say we will go home then I do mean _Prince Manor_ and surely not Privet Drive?"

"Yes, sir." The boy again answered after giving him a nod and receiving a lifted eyebrow for it.

"Good." He once more growled. "Because you _are_ my son now and Prince Manor _is_ your home – like it or not, you will have to deal with the situation. Now – are you ready to continue this talk for your release or would you really like staying here?"

"We won't go anywhere else than Prince Manor?" The idiot child asked, as if he had to reassure himself that he really would not end up anywhere else than his new home – and especially not his relatives.

"No, we won't go anywhere else than Prince Manor, you idiot child." He said with an overly exaggerated and suffering sigh, hoping he would lighten the mood a bit. "At least not today. We will have to visit Diagon Alley though, or do you wish arriving at Hogwarts without any school supplies?"

"Oh …" The boy made, looking up at him owlishly.

"Oh indeed." He drawled. "Are you _now_ ready to continue this talk?"

"Yes, sir." Came again from the brat. "Sorry, sir." And he closed his eyes for a moment at the continued use of the "sir" instead of – his given name. Surely he didn't expect the boy to use a word like – Merlin beware – _'__father__'_ – to address him with, but at least his given name he had offered the boy to use. They were family now after all.

"Very good." Nolan then said. "I will tell you how we will proceed, and then you tell me what you are amenable with and what not."

The boy gave a nod away but didn't bother getting up from where he was, leaning against his chest and with a scowl on his face he shoved the blasted boy over to his own chair and seated him back where he belonged to, nearly smirking at the scowl the _boy_ now showed on his face. Did the idiot child think he was a chair? Did he like him so much already that he had to scowl at the loss of comfort caused by leaning against him? Surely not!

"Alright, Harry." Nolan continued, still smirking at him, Snape. "Your father will take you home today, but I don't want you to do _any_ strenuous activities. You however will have to continue with your daily physical exercises to keep your muscles smooth and relaxed. You will not overdo those exercises either and I want you to rest for an hour in the afternoons."

"'M not a _baby_!" The boy said, startled at that bit of information.

"No, you are not, Mr. Snape." Severus drawled, his eyebrow lifted. "But seeing that you have lacked anything at your relatives' house, I am sure your body not only does not know what it needs, but will thank you for the rest it now gets as well."

"Oh." The boy again made, giving away a defeated nod.

"Good." Nolan continued. "We will continue with the muscle relaxer and the core strengthening potion. Pain reliever and calming draughts will be in your father's decision and dependent on the specific situation.

"I don't want to be medicated." Harry said, startled, his eyes going large while he looked over at him, Snape.

"I will respect your wish for now, partly at least." Snape said, his voice firm and unbending. "The muscle relaxer and the core strengthening potion, you will have no choice over them as they are vital and this is not up for discussion. Your situation is far more serious as you now might think, Harry. We can keep both, the pain reliever and the calming draught at a minimum, but if I see that you are in pain or your muscles start cramping because you are upset, then I will add them. The nutrient potion as well as the sleeping potion we may omit at all by now – as long as you eat and sleep to my satisfaction. If I however see that your condition becomes too severe, I will decide whether to put you on further medication or not."

"'K." The boy said and it was clear that he was not really happy with the decision.

"You also will have to visit me here at St. Mungos once a week for a checkup, Harry." Nolan said. "I suggest that those visits will take place on Friday afternoons so that you can partake in a weekly therapy as well. You of course can give different therapies a change until you have found the one that you would like doing and that will help you."

"But I have lessons on Friday afternoons!" The boy said, now really sounding horrified. "And I don't need therapies!"

"Of that you will not be the judge, young man." Severus said, trying to stay calm. "Your Friday afternoon classes are cancelled hereby and you will partake in one or another therapy here at St. Mungos."

"But you can't cancel my classes?" The boy said, nearly asked, sounding desperate while looking at him with pleading and large green eyes.

"You seem to again forget that I am your father – and therefore, I can." The Potions Master calmly said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "You also seem to forget that at the same time I am one of your healers and so – I can set you on a therapy instead of classes and last but not least – I am the headmaster of the school you are attending, and so yes, I can cancel each class I think is necessary without having to ask your head of house first even."

"Oh …" The idiot child made a third time and he, the Potions Master, gave another suffering sigh at the display of eloquence from his son.

"You will have to make a choice now, Harry." Nolan said and Severus already knew what the boy would choose. Luckily, as there was no chance of the boy chosing _him_. "As your father already has mentioned, you have two healers right now, namely your father and my person. You now will have to chose whom you wish having as your _main_ healer."

"Sir?" The boy asked, not understanding.

"At the present time your father and I are both your healers." Nolan started explaining. "That means that any decisions regarding your health will be made by both of us. Of course your father has the last say as he is your legal parent, but generally we both have say in your treatment and we both can carry out any treatment we think necessary. You will have to choose whom of us you would like having as your main healer so that you can concentrate onto one of us. Whomever you chose, will be the one informed encase of an accident, will be the one whose magical signature will be on your medications, will be the one accompanying you to your checkups and therapies and he will be the one who will make the main decisions concerning medication, theraoy and any other treatment. Again – your father of course will have the last word, but in choosing one of us as your main healer you minimize confusion on your part and on our part as well, the roles simply are assigned if you chose the healer that holds your trust."

Well, the large eyes the child looked at them with made clear – he had not thought about anything regarding further treatment, healers, hospital, or anything else that was related to one of those terms.

"I … I would like having my fa- …professor Snape as … well, what you said." The boy mumbled and this time it was him, Severus, having a hard time to not sit there with large eyes at the boy's words.

"A wise decision." Nolan smirked. "That simplifies things immense, Harry. Severus, if you would, please?"

Again it took him a moment to regain control over himself, but then he schooled his face into its usual emotionless mask, drew his wand and with quick a wave and a few murmured words in Latin a black textile wristband with a green pattern appeared on his wrist, running along his wrist smoothly and without the disturbance of any clasp and when he looked closer, squinting his eyes, he could make out the small words etched into the green pattern 'Harry Severus Snape' while at the opposite side the letters 'PM-STS' were etched into the green pattern. And he frowned.

"Encase of an emergency." Severus Snape explained. "If you are taken to any hospital within the magical world, any healer immediately will know who you are and whom he has to contact. The 'PM' stands for Potions Master and 'STS' for Severus Tobias Snape. No medication will be given and no decision will be made without me being contacted at first. Added to this – as it is not 'H-STS' but 'PM-STS', only potions that had been brewed by my person are allowed to be given by any healer except of me. This wristband cannot be taken off by anyone except of me, not even by you, but you may disguise it with a concealing spell the moment school starts. I however strangely advice you of not doing so until then as your body will need a bit more strength before dealing with too many magic and it has already to deal with the potions in your system."

"'K." The boy said, and as startling as it was – he didn't sound horrified at the prospect of having to wear a textile band around his wrist with his, Snape's initials woven into the black and green pattern. "But won't it be destroyed with time in the shower? Or with working and doing things?"

"No." He said. "This band is – at least to some kind – a magical contract that shows that I am responsible for you, care for you and keep you safe and alive with my own life if necessary." He answered. "And as any magical contract it is not destroyable."

"But I have not agreed to anything in a contract, have I?" The boy looked at him, confused.

"No, you have not." He answered. "But as the patient you do not have to. It is the healer that has agreed into a magical contract the moment he became one."

"Oh …" The boy again made.

"However." He then said. "This textile ribbon also serves as a means of medication. We will work on your final dosage with the monitors I already have installed in your room at home still, but once this is done I will be able applying the potions to your ribbon that will give them away in a constant dosage over the day. It also will show me your general health without me having to cast a diagnostic all the time. The brighter the green is, the better you are – and no, never mind any concealing charm you have over the ribbon, I will see it nevertheless all the time. And last but not least – it will alert me encase of an emergency."

"Ok, that doesn't sound too bad." The boy finally said, a bit more than a two-letter word. "So I don't have to take potions all the time?"

"No, you do not." He said. "For this to work however, Harry, so that you really will be able going to school regularly and effectively, you will have to do a few things as well. The first thing is, that I want you to tell me _immediately_ the moment you feel unusual pain, tiredness, weakness or the beginning of any dizziness or cramps. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." The boy immediately nodded and he was glad that at least this time he would not have to fight with the brat.

"The second thing is that I will put monitoring charms on you during the night." He then continued, knowing that _this_ would cause a fight.

"But why?" The boy asked – well, he had known that it wouldn't go down as smoothly as telling him if feeling unwell.

"Because you won't be able telling me if you feel ill while you are asleep, Mr. Snape." He drawled. "It easily could be that you won't wake from a cramp and that could lead to your body getting into a full blown attack that could destroy your magical core. To avoid this – I will put a monitoring charm on you while you sleep that will alert me in case of troubles concerning your health."

"Ok …" The boy agreed, even if he didn't look really happy and the Potions Master lifted his eyebrow – he had not thought that the boy would agree so quickly.

"Furthermore, I expect you to abide by _all_ the instructions I allocate." He then said. "I need to be able to trust you, Harry, that you do as I say and that you do so immediately and without arguing as I can assure you – whatever I will order you, I will have a reason behind my order, and it could be that it is an order that might safe your sorry behind."

"Know." The boy mumbled, averting his eyes and startling the Potions Master for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

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* * *

**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_Going back home …  
_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading – and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …


	31. more than I could ask for

**Title:**

The room of requirement

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Fourth year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

Hermione Granger is Hermy. Harry Potter is justharry. And Severus Snape is the Darkmaster. What is wrong with the witches and wizards during the summer holiday after third year?

**Disclaimer: **

Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows' ? no ?

Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books ? no ?

Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

**Added Author's Note:**

fanfiction does not give us the opportunity to chat here … of course some of you might now say - hey, why whould we wish to chat as we're already writing and reading? we won't even have the time to chat!

I however have used my brain for a little bit - and yes, it's possible for me to use my brain every now and then - and thinking of the room of requirement - well, I have made it true - you will find the "room of requirement" on spinchat dot com … just get an account - this won't hurt, I promise - then hit "chat" and search for the chatroom "the room of requirement" …

**Warning:**

Story contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help … there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me - I am …

* * *

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**Previously in The room of requirement**

_"Furthermore, I expect you to abide by the instructions I allocate." He then said. "I need to be able trusting you, Harry, that you do as I say and that you do so immediately and without arguing as I can assure you – whatever I will order you, I will have a reason behind my order, and it could be that it is an order that might safe your sorry behind."_

_"Know." The boy mumbled, averting his eyes and startling the Potions Master for the umpteenth time this afternoon. _

**The room of requirement**

**Chapter thirty-one **

**More than I could ask for  
**

**Tuesday**

He slowly stood up the moment Nolan had released him and followed Severus out to the hall. They had to stop every few flights of steps for Harry to rest, but once Harry stepped out into the hospital gardens and the soft wind blew against his face, he knew that the heaviness in his chest and the weakness in his legs and arms, the slight pain in his back were all worth it while he stood there for a moment, just now realizing how much he had missed being outside.

"Sit down for a moment." The Potions Master said, extending his hand towards one of the benches that stood around the large garden. "You will need a bit more of your strength until we are at home and we do have enough time."

He didn't answer, not really knowing what he was to say – or not to say – and a moment later the older wizard that had become his father sat down beside him.

"You seemed angry at Nolan's terms and conditions earlier." Snape said, not even looking at him but leaning back on the bench and looking ahead, into the direction of the far away mountains, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his legs stretched comfortably in front of him. As if he were sitting with a teenager every day, asking him awkward questions.

"He thinks that I'm ill." He sighed frustrated. He hated it being ill and weak and he even more hated it if someone, anyone, knew about _how_ ill and weak he was, knowing that nothing good ever came out of people knowing.

"Well, you _are_ ill, Harry." Snape simply stated, gently but matter of factly.

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"I hate it!" The boy beside him murmured. "I hate it being ill!"

"I know, but ignoring that you are ill won't help you to get better." He softly answered. "We will have to work on your poor health together and then we hopefully will get the upper hand over this eventually."

"I'm sorry." The boy whispered miserably. "That I'm such a bother, I mean. That you have to look after me now. I mean, it sure like hell would be easier if I weren't so damn ill and weak and you didn't have to look after me and …"

Lifting his eyebrow at the boy's swearing he shook his head, deciding that he would ignore it this time. The child had taken all that had been thrown at him without any complain so far, only now stating that he hated it and surely any child that was in the same predicament as was Harry, was allowed to resort to foul language once in a while. It was only normal that the child allowed himself to vent in frustration he surely must feel upon his pains and fears.

"Child," he gently said, his eyebrow still lifted, "you have annoyed me throughout the years with your disobedience and after curfew wanderings. Trust me, in comparison with _that_, this here is very little bother."

Well, at least the child smiled at his words – for a moment, before Harry's face shuttered up and the smile disappeared from his face. Yes, it would be going to be a long and hard year for them and Severus just hoped that he would not be alone at the end of it. Looking at the forlorn boy he knew that adopting this particular child had been the right course to take.

"I am however sure that a fourteen year old boy would want to show a bit more considerate words in future than you just showed, Harry." The man then smirked, looking down at the child sitting beside him.

"Fourteen?" The boy asked, looking up at him with a startled expression on his face.

"Hmm." He made taking the child on his shoulders and pulling him close. "As it seems, you have not realized that today is the last day of July and therefore your birthday. I however do suggest that we celebrate it tomorrow as I am sure you will be very tired the moment we arrive back at Prince Manor."

Well, the haunted look in Harry's eyes did not disappear, it never did, but at least the half smile and the shy look were back, for how ever long it would last – but right now, it was a blessing to Severus's upset mind and he allowed his hand to reach up to mess the boy's unruly black hair, causing the boy to look at him startled before his smile even brightened a little bit.

"Alright, shall we go home now?" He then asked and after receiving a nod from the boy he got off the bench, extending his hand towards the boy and then pulling him up until he stood, allowing the child to keep a grip on his arm while they slowly walked towards the gates that led from the hospital's ground.

The slow and unsure steps the boy took told him enough, not only about the tiredness, but about the unsureness and the fear the child felt as well, fear that he could stumble and fall on the uneven ground out here, just like the death like grip the boy had on his arm told him enough about the pain the boy apparently was in at every step he took and he was glad the moment they had left the park around St. Mungos and had reached the small side road where he had parked the car, startling the boy when he unlocked the door of a black Voyager that surely had seen better days.

"Sir?" The boy asked, looking up at him as if he were from a different universe.

"Your magical core has been affected dangerously by illness and there is no playing around with such." He explained while opening the passenger's door for the boy to get in. "I have had no other chance than bringing you to the hospital via floo, seeing that every second had counted, but there is no need for such haste right now and I won't risk using such an amount of magic like flooing, port keying or apparition with your core at the present time. And now get in, Harry." He added, waiting for the boy to get inside the car and then closing the door before he rounded the vehicle and got behind the steering wheel.

"Fasten your seat belt." The Potions Master said and Harry dared a glance over at the man.

He meanwhile had accepted that Snape had a computer and apparently knew how to use it, even in a chat room – what gave him a small smile when he thought at Hermione, Adrian and the others in the room of requirement, knowing that he would have to wait until after the holidays to see them again. Surely Snape wouldn't allow him using his computer and his uncle surely had destroyed his laptop by now.

The thought of Snape however driving a car, it definitely was the most strange thing he had seen lately – except of Snape adopting him, Harry Bloody Potter, and for another moment he just blinked before doing as he'd been told and even after that – he couldn't help watching the man starting the car. Not to mention that he actually _was_ able to watch, seeing that Snape had allowed him at the front seat. Uncle Vernon absolutely never would have allowed him at the front seat, never mind what and the entire situation was so very strange, he couldn't grasp it.

He watched the Potions Master driving the vehicle with a sureness that surely stemmed from practice, and he still was barely able to comprehend the situation.

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It was more than half an hour later that he steered the blasted car into the driveway of Prince Manor, glad for once that he had built it back then when Charley had asked him to. Not to mention that he actually was glad that he had kept the car.

Of course it had cost him quite an effort to really use it now, but he knew that he had barely any other chance. He wouldn't risk using any more magic in the boy's presence than absolutely necessary and any magical means of transportation was quite a large amount of powerful magic, nothing that would do any good to Harry's core.

Parking the Voyager in front of the large barn he left the car and then opened the boy's door who sat there, still blinking at him in shock. He had calmed down somewhat on their way to the Manor, but now that the car stood the boy was back to being shocked, apparently.

"Come now, child." He softly said, able to watch the shocked expression shifting from the fact of him, Snape, driving a car to him, Snape, calling the boy a child, even if the child should have gotten used to _this_ by now. It wasn't the first time after all that he did. "We are at home and it is time to get you inside. It has been a long day and if you really wish to celebrate your birthday tomorrow, then I suggest you rest now."

Extending his hand he helped the boy leaving the car before throwing the door shut and then leading the boy over the pebbled path, their steps crunching softly on the pebbles and again the could feel the boy having a death grip on his arm, the steps unsure and careful, as if he knew exactly that he could fall otherwise.

Harry silently cursed himself for his need to walk slowly and watch his steps, for his fear that he could slip on the small pebbles and fall, and he actually had to force himself to get his eyes off the pebbly path, to look up at the house, and the moment he finally did look up, he gasped as he took in the sight in front of him.

An old seventeenth Century manor lay in front of him, complete with two wings in the east and west sides of the courtyard while the large main house faced the south. He easily could count three different levels above ground and he was sure that there was at least one level underground while he could see a large dome on the top of the roof from the west wing.

A large circular stone fountain was situated in the centre of the courtyard, flowing, sunlight sparkling in the water spray and the same bright, nearly white pebbly paths led around it, towards the house and across bright green lawns. One seemed to vanish behind the house while another one seemed to lead into a small wood of some sort.

The Potions Master led the boy around the fountain to the large front doors. He didn't mind adapting to the slower pace of the boy and he nearly smiled at the large eyes and the astonished facial expressions the child looked around with.

"You never have seen Prince Manor from the outside." He softly said. "I rarely stay here, but it has been in the family for generations and is one of the safest places in Britain, with layers upon layers of protective wards woven around it. The Dark Lord does not know where it is, nor does Dumbledore – although he is aware of its existence."

"It's beautiful." Was all the boy softly said, nearly whispered and he couldn't help agreeing.

"It is." He just as softly answered, just the moment when one side of the double winged entrance doors opened and none other than Minerva McGonagall stepped out of the building, while at the same time the boy's knees buckled and gave way, the child giving away a small startled gasp.

He relinquished his grip on Harry's arm and caught him by the waist as he sunk towards the floor, placed a hand under Harry's knees and he simply pulled the too much underweight boy into his arms. Gently and with a sure footing he made his way towards the house and then up the wide flight of stony stairs.

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The transfiguration professor awaited them at the top of the stairs, her face creased with concern as she glanced down at the boy held in Severus' arms.

She had known that he would bring the boy home today and she hadn't been able to keep herself from coming to visit, allowing herself into the man's manor.

She wouldn't do so normally, even if she knew that she still was keyed into the wards, that she still was the _only_ one except of Herbaceous VanHarkins who was keyed into the wards, that she was allowed to visit the manor whenever she wished, but she never had done so in all those years, because she had known what a large amount of trust Severus showed her in allowing her that much. But she hadn't been able to keep herself from doing so today.

She hadn't seen the boy since he was at St. Mungos, since he had left Hogwarts for the summer holidays actually, and what Severus had told her, it had sounded really serious. Not to mention that she knew – normally people rarely were at St. Mungos for such a long time and if they were to stay so long, then it really was very serious indeed. And it just had added to this knowledge when she had looked out of the window expectantly, seeing Severus arriving in Charley's car in order to avoid using any kind of powerful magic in the boy's presence.

The picture of the Potions Master carrying the boy that seemed too small in the man's arms suddenly and the man doing so without any efforts, carrying the teenager as if he were a small child that weighed nothing, it didn't calm her worries at all, on the contrary.

"Good evening, Severus." She softly said, holding open the door for the younger man. "I have asked Zilly to prepare a light dinner already. I hope you are amenable with this."

"Thank you Minerva." The man answered. "And yes I am."

For a moment she wondered if she should address Harry as well, but the boy had turned in Severus' arms, hiding his face in the man's robe and it was clear that he was embarrassed upon having broken down – but Merlin! The boy was ill and surely he would understand that an ill person shouldn't be ashamed of breaking down and having to be carried. And surely not if it was a child like this boy being ill as he was – but well, she sighed heavily, the boy was just as stubborn in those regards as was Severus.

Minerva opened the door into the sitting room and Severus lowered the boy onto the sofa, aware that his arms had hardly tired, another remainder that the boy was so much lighter than he ought to be and he silently swore while he took a blanket from the backrest of the sofa, spread it over the small form.

A moment later Zilly popped into the living room, announcing that dinner was already prepared.

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Dinner itself had been a rather calm affair.

Neither he nor Minerva had been ready to make any deep conversation concerning the real reason of Minerva's visit, namely the boy's health, and so the topics had been about the upcoming school year, about the new lesson plans, about his new post and about whom appointing the new Slytherin head of house and potions teacher.

Minerva had suggested Slughorn, what had caused him to actually laugh out loud, startling Harry in the act and he had shaken his head.

"Nice joke, Minerva." He had said then, ignoring the still owlishly large eyes of the boy who goggled at him startled.

"It hasn't been a joke, Severus." The idiot woman smiled at him. "Slughorn's been a Slytherin, he's been the head of Slytherin before you, and he's a Potions Master."

"Slughorn has his head stuck as deep in the asses of any influential witch or wizard as possible and I always have wondered how he got it in and out of all those rectal areas as often as he needs." He had said, electing a chocked gasp from Harry and a shocked "Severus!" from Minerva.

Well, he hadn't cared, just reminded Harry to not repeat his words in any means, added with a stern look at the boy who quickly had nodded at him with still large eyes. A few minutes later however the boy had started to suppress sniggers at his earlier words and for a moment he had wondered if it had taken the boy's brain so long to comprehend his words or if it had been the boy's shock taking hold of him for so long.

"You are allowed to laugh in this house, Harry." He had said at one point or another. "If I had not wanted to hear laugher in this house then I never would have adopted a child to begin with. Seeing however that I have, you are most welcomed to do just this."

And the boy had done, laughed, if only just softly, but he had. It had been enough for him at that particular moment.

An hour later he had brought the boy to his room.

"I suggest that you – slowly, mind you – prepare for bed." He had told the boy then. "I do not wish you to leave your room alone before I cannot be sure that you won't fall down the stairs and break your neck in the act, and I do not wish you to go to the bathroom alone either for now. If it is not my person you ask for assistance, I expect you to call for Zilly who will be glad being able to help you. I expect you to move slowly and to keep close to the furniture so you have something to hold onto if needed. I have prepared a shrunken pyjama for you to dress into and in the bathroom you will find a toothbrush, a washcloth and anything else you might need. If something is missing, then just ask Zilly and he will be of help. I will be back to have a look in on you later."

"Do you have any news, Severus?" Minerva asked the moment he came back down to the large parlour.

"Concerning what, Minerva?" He asked back after a moment he had needed to get himself back to reality and sat back down opposite the woman. "The blasted tournament, my new post or Harry's condition? You will have to be a bit more clear."

"Concerning Harry of course." The blasted woman said. "I have never seen you like this, Severus. You seem to care so very deeply for the boy, it nearly is startling."

For a moment he wanted to seethe at the woman, to tell her that he didn't care about anyone and surely not about that blasted brat, but then he remembered what had happened when he had claimed the same thing towards Nolan, that he wouldn't care, having been so sure that Harry had been asleep but the boy having heard his words.

No, he would not do the same mistake twice, never mind how embarrassing the blasted woman was with her accusation.

"Loath as I am to admit it, Minerva, yes I do care." He growled at the woman. "And deeply so."

"He isn't as ill as I heard Nolan saying, is he?" She asked and he could see the hope in her eyes. "I mean, surely I do know of his magical core being damaged so badly, but all the other things I have heard Nolan speaking about …"

"I do not know what exactly you have heard, Minerva, but let me assure you, there was enough damage done to the boy that I can say for certain that he would not have seen the sunset again if he had stayed any longer in this particular household." He said, taking a deep breath. "If he had managed to last until its rises, that is. He very nearly didn't survive until now even with both, Nolan and myself working on him to heal a majority of his injuries and keeping him stable." He then added, his face softening a bit. "That child does not know how much he had come to mean to me, and neither does he know how scared I am for him. Not even after I have heard of the attack on Lily's house have I been this scared as I am now and I do not know how one innocent boy can raise such feelings within me. It scares me more than I am ready to admit." He finally said, his expression softening another notch and a haunted look appeared in his eyes for a brief moment before he slammed a blank mask over his face again.

"I do understand, my dear Severus." Minerva sighed, leaning back in her armchair. "But if I understood Nolan correctly, then there isn't anything that could be done at all, is it?"

"I fear no." He said. "We of course will prolong it as long as possible, but in the end it won't change anything. His core is cracked and he will get weaker with time, his magic will leave him through those cracks and in the end he will die, never what."

"How long does he really have, Severus?" Minerva asked, her voice very quiet and he took a deep breath.

"I cannot answer you this question because I do not know an answer to it myself." He then said. "It might be a week, it might be a month, it might be a year, maybe even two years or three but – surely he won't see adulthood. But well, for now he will have to simply regain a bit of his earlier strength, meaning that he will need to rest and to eat, and that he will have to do physical exercises. On Friday afternoons he will visit St. Mungos for regular check ups as well as for one or another therapy. We do not know which he will be able to take, but I would suggest something like drawing or music. Anything that could help him dealing with what had been done to him."

"Do you think he will accept it?" She asked and he frowned.

"I will not raise any false hopes in saying that it will be easy as surely he will start fighting over one or another point, but he will have no other chance than partaking in the therapy. He may give different therapies a chance, I won't deny him that in ordering him into one specific, but he will partake in one or another or he will get into trouble with me."

"Do you think it is wise to try and force him?" Minerva asked, frowning.

"Of course not." He said, running a tired hand over his just as tired face. "But what other chance to I have? We do not have enough time to sit by and discussing things over and over again until the child sees reason and while it surely won't safe his life in the end, it nevertheless might help saving his life for a bit longer and I will take any day, week or month I can." Taking a deep breath he got off the armchair he was sitting in.

"If you excuse me for a while, it is late and I will have to get Harry ready for bed." He then said.

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"Are you ready for bed now, Harry?" Severus asked upon entering the boy's room, frowning at the boy sitting in the armchair in front of the desk instead of in bed. "You look tired."

"Am tired." The boy murmured and he nodded.

"Lay down then, and try to sleep." He softly said, taking the boy on his upper arm and pulling him up from the armchair, leading him over to the bed. "And except for short trips to the bathroom, I do expect you to stay in said bed for the next few days as long as there is no assistance present from my person."

"What?" The boy asked then, looking up at him startled.

"I am sure you have heard me correctly, Harry." He said, scowling. "You will stay in bed for the next few days as long as there is no assistance present in form of my person. I will of course take you to the downstairs halls for meals and for reading as well as I will take you outside for short walks in the garden, but generally the most thing you need at the present time is rest."

He turned towards the chair where the boy had placed his clothes to fold them when he heard murmur coming from the boy, a soft "I think I'd rather be back at Privet Drive than stuck in this bloody bed for a few days or maybe even weeks" and a moment later Snape had turned towards the boy almost even before Harry had finished his sentence, his eyes flashing dangerously at the stupid declaration.

"Have you any Idea just how close to death I have found you at this particular house?" He asked, his voice a dangerous growl. "Have you any idea how much work we put in, just to keep you alive after that bastard had his hands on you? Or do you really have no care whatsoever for your own general wellbeing?"

"I … I didn't mean … I just …" The boy stammered, looking startled and miserable, scared, for all he could tell, like a lost and frightened little child that had done something without even knowing what he had done but feeling sorry and miserable over it all the same.

"I can understand that you do not like staying in bed." He softly said, sitting down at the edge of said bed and pulling the blanket up over the boy's shoulders. "No child would like this, what is the reason as to why I just told you – I will take you for short walks outside in the gardens, and I will take you downstairs for meals and to the library maybe later when you are better. This is not a game, Harry." He then added seriously. "You are ill, and you are seriously ill. I will not having you risking your own life just because you do not wish to stay in bed. I expect you to do as you are told and to just stay in bed while no one is around you."

"Yes, sir." The boy murmured and apparently this time he couldn't stop the tears from falling, the thin shoulders shaking with silent sobs – and a moment later the boy quite suddenly and unexpectedly threw himself into the Potions Master's arms, the older wizard slowly wrapping his arms around the teenager, sighing for a moment over the emotional up and down of the child.

When he had first decided to care for the boy, it had been mostly to redeem himself in his own eyes and to become someone who did not resemble his father in any ways. Now it had nothing to do with that anymore, now he was truly getting attached to the child. The boy was far braver than he had ever known, far kinder and the child held no arrogance whatsoever.

For a moment Severus remembered the look on Potter's face when he had held his hand for the first time in the infirmary and the look of pure happiness when he had been sitting with the boy, reading him a story, such a small thing as sitting with the child and reading him a story, to a fourteen year old teenager. It only was proof of how needy this child was without ever asking for anything and he knew – those moments were true and those moment, they had broken through his hard outer shell and touched him.

Now he just had to fix this mess he had made with Potter throughout the past few years. He needed to show the boy that he wasn't going to hurt him, and that he wasn't going to leave him either, that they would work through hard times together, that he wouldn't let the boy fighting for his life alone and without his help.

But how would the boy being able to let his guard down and trust him? He knew he had to do something more than just taking the boy to meals and to short walks to make up for this – but he was ready to do more, he was ready to really care for the child.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

"Is he asleep?" Minerva asked the moment Severus came back into the large parlour and she nearly chuckled when the man only nodded at her tersely. She knew the man well enough now and she knew that – well, most likely, and as strange as it was, had Potter fallen asleep in the Potions Master's arms. A thought that was rather amusing and she nearly chuckled for a moment. But then she got serious again and pointed at the table where the evening edition of the Daily Prophet lay, delivered just moments ago by a ginger owl from the publishing house.

"Is it what I fear it is?" He asked, and she nodded, knowing what he meant, namely the report about Harry Potter being in hospital.

"I still don't know how they have managed getting in there, no one told anything about that."

"The hospital guards had been letting in the reporters the moment Nolan and Hotaru had left the room for Nolan's office to discuss Harry's condition and further treatment." Severus said and she frowned. "They must have informed them via patronus that they could visit as only the auror was in the room and then they have disappeared when the reporters arrived."

"Have they been found?" She asked, worried over the fact that guards from St. Mungos had let the reporters in. "Because there is no information on them in this blasted report Skeeter wrote." They were supposed to keep the patients, never mind who the patients were, safe, it was their job to keep them safe! And now the knowledge that they hadn't, that they maybe even had been corrupted, it startled her, if she had to be honest.

"Yes." Severus answered and she gave a satisfied nod. "Moody said they have been arrested already and there will be a trial at the beginning of next week."

"At least." She sighed. It wouldn't do for them to get away with betraying the trust placed in them without getting punished. "The article is from Skeeter, has she been amongst those imbeciles? It just would be like her."

"No, she has not been, and luckily for her as she does reside in my bad books at the present time anyway already." Severus growled darkly and again she was reminded that those, the man chose to take under his protection, well, he would protect them with his life and anyone messing around was in danger of losing his or her life by his hands.

"Would you like to read the article?" She asked, frowning worriedly.

"No, not now at least." Severus answered. "I have had a rather good day. I have brought Harry home safely and considering his condition, he is well today. That is more than I could ask for and I do not wish to have my good mood destroyed by a bloody article in the daily prophet. I will read it tomorrow morning."

"Hmm." She made, leaning back and allowing herself to relax in Severus' company. It was a rare occasion that the man admitted being in a good mood and it was a relaxing thought that he did so right now.

Not to mention that she nearly felt at home, here at Prince Manor.

Maybe she would send a patronus to Muriel to inform her that she wouldn't be home tonight, she smirked to herself for a moment. Not that she really thought Severus would by free will start their abandoned relationship anew, but well, surely one night wouldn't hurt, would it? And the thought of having the younger wizard all for herself for the night – it was a thought that wasn't so unpleasant.

Just maybe.

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

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**To be continued**

**Next time in The room of requirement**

_The first day at home for Harry and a few rules that has to be set_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too, thank you …

**house cup**

_alright, the question some of you have put up in my head, about being Slytherin or Gryffindor - or maybe any other house - it never had left my head so far and so I have thought about something … I don't know if it even will work, but well -_

_starting on January first, 2012 - just give away the house you'd be in, in your reviews, and any house will get a point per review … I'll add them together and then I'll start a house cup … like I said, I don't know if it will work even, if you like the idea - but well, I'll take the risk and try it …_

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**September 13th, 2013**

**Dear readers,**

just wish to inform you about another story – "… and sit a while with me …" – which will shortly start on the Profile of mrs. trabi here on fanfiction.

you will find some known persons in this story, and you will find one or another known incident in the story because the author of the story is me, even though I am posting this story not on my own profile but on my daughter's, and for several reasons so – one of it being because it's a rather unique story compared to my others.

more details you will learn while visiting mrs. trabi's profile:

www fanfiction net /u/2473886/mrs-trabi


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